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I never saw anything so wonderful! I tell you the man who gives me that, can have me." "How much is it?" "Fifteen thousand pesetas." Then she fixed an inscrutable look on Darlés, and added: "I think this gentleman here is going to get it for me. Aren't you, Enrique?" Candelas was about to laugh, but checked herself.
The friendship of the unrighteous is never of long duration; the two worthies had it seems quarrelled in prison; Candelas having accused the other of bad faith and an undue appropriation to his own use of the corpus delicti in various robberies which they had committed in company. I cannot refrain from relating the subsequent history of this Balseiro.
The curt authority of those few words had created a good deal of an impression on her. This was the letter of a man; children cannot speak thus. An impatient hand, perhaps a desperate one, had written with vigorous letters the one word, "Urgent," on the envelope. "What shall we do?" asked she. "When he summons you, that way," judged Candelas, "something serious must have happened to him. Well "
And as he said this, he blushed deeply, because this confession was equivalent to another, that he was drawing closer to her. Smilingly Candelas peered at the student. Alicia added with cruel malice: "You know, dear, I asked him to get it for me." "Yes, I know, I remember," said Enrique. He spoke sadly. Alicia began to laugh. "Well, how about it? Are you really thinking of giving it to me?"
"No, Belgian," Candelas answered. Alicia hardly remembered, very clearly, where the Low Countries might be. This answer did not satisfy her. But no matter; after all, it was enough for her to know the victorious jockey had come from one of those northern countries where all the men are blond and well-dressed.
Candelas had already expiated his crime on the scaffold, but Balseiro, who was said to be by far the worst ruffian of the two, had by dint of money, an ally which his comrade did not possess, contrived to save his own life; the punishment of death, to which he was originally sentenced, having been commuted to twenty years' hard labour in the presidio of Malaga.
"You committed that robbery in the Calle Mayor?" "Yes." Alicia looked exultingly at Candelas, as if asking her to take full cognizance of this exploit of hers. Her expression showed the same kind of pride that people sometimes manifest when they are exhibiting a work of art. She had just won a great triumph, because men dare such crimes only for women capable of inspiring mad love.
The young woman shrugged her shoulders. Her impure eyes, of absinthe hue, were moistened by no tear. Candelas, on the other hand, was showing herself more human, far more a woman. Her eyes were drowned with grief. Enrique continued speaking. His manner was grave. Quite suddenly the youth had become a man. "I decided to win you back," said he, "to offer you the thing you wanted so much.
Then the furnishings of the little boudoir vanished under a many-colored flood of showy silks green, brown, blue which, as they were spread out, diffused a most delightful perfume of cleanness. As if under some magic spell, Alicia and Candelas fell a prey to the intense, acquisitive passion that tortures women in front of shop-windows. The two girls vied in asking the price of every treasure.
Candelas began to explain the blind faith that the count, her friend, had in this remarkable Belgian connoisseur of horses. Then she briefly outlined the brilliant program of travels and pleasures the count and she were planning. Along toward the beginning of May they would go to London, and in June to Paris, where the count was hoping to win the grand prix at Longchamps.
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