“And where did you make the four hundred? Out of the soap?”
“Ah, you misjudge me, friend. Why, we had to break open Salome’s money-box in order to pay him.”
“Does Salome work as hard as she used to?”
“If she didn’t, where would she get her water to drink? She does needlework which is a sight to see, and helps in everything. Her mother’s own daughter. But if I tell you that the girl is a puzzle to me, I am not lying to you.”
“Salome? She so proper, so honest?”
“She, my friend; quiet as you see her.”
“What has happened?”
“You are a real gentleman and my friend, and I will tell you, instead of going to tell the priest in the church; that good saint would not suspect it if his soul left his body. But wait, and let me get over this ditch first, for it will take skill not to get stuck in it.”
Turning around to the idiot, who came along half asleep among his bananas, he said, “Watch the path, fool; for if the mare gets mired I’ll gladly lose the bananas for the sake of leaving you there.”
The half-witted fellow laughed stupidly, and replied with some inarticulate mutterings. My friend went on, “You know Tiburcio, the little mulatto that Murcia raised?”
“Is not he the one that wanted to marry Salome?”
“The very one.”
“I do not know who raised him, but of course I know him. I have seen him in your house, and in José’s. We have even hunted together several times. He is a fine lad.”
“Up there where you see, he has eight good cows, his drove of pigs, his little bit of land, and two mares broken for riding. For ’ñor Murcia, though he led a fearfully wicked life, was a good man and left everything to the boy.”
“And what is the matter with Tiburcio?”
“I am coming to that. Well, Señor, it’s as much as eight months ago that I began to notice that the boy had no lack of errands to come to see us. But I soon saw his game, and was sure that what he wanted was to see Salome. One day I said so clearly to Candelaria, and she came out with the reply that my eyes must have been in a cloud, and that my story was stale. I put myself at a peephole, one Saturday afternoon, for Tiburcio always came on Saturdays at that hour; and mind you, I saw the girl go out to meet him as soon as she saw him. So I haven’t a particle of doubt. Understand, I saw nothing improper. Day after day passed, and Tiburcio did not open his mouth to speak of marriage. But I thought: he is studying Salome, and a ninny he will be if he doesn’t marry her, for she is neat in her clothes, and a housewife such as you’ll scarcely find. But suddenly Tiburcio stopped coming, and Candelaria could not find out the reason from the girl; and as Salome has me in great respect, as she ought to, still less could I find it out. Anyhow, since some time before Christmas Tiburcio has not been there. Are you a friend of Justiniano, brother of Don Carlitos?”
“I haven’t seen him since we were children.”
“Well, cut off the whiskers Don Carlos has grown, and there you have him. But would that he were like his brother! He is the very devil. Still, a good-looking boy; what is the use of denying it? I do not know where he saw Salome; but since he first did, I cannot eat a banana with any relish.”
“That is not right.”
“Though I am telling you this at the risk of having my wife, if she knows it, call me crazy, or a mere gabbler, I know what I am doing. But there is no disease without its cure. I have been digging over the matter till I have hit upon the difficulty.”
“What is it, my friend? But tell me first—and pardon me if I offend you in asking it—how does Salome treat Justiniano?”
“Don’t ask me, Señor. That’s the thing that keeps me day and night as if I were sleeping on nettles. My friend, the girl is smitten. I love her, my boy, and that’s the reason I’m telling you all this, so that you can help me out.”
“But how do you know that Salome is enamoured?”
“Heaven help me! Haven’t I seen her eyes dance when she sees the little white fellow? And she never fails to go Sunday afternoons to the house of old Dominga. Do you know her?”
“No.”
“Well, I must tell you that she is one of those that use powders. No one can get it out of Candelaria’s head that it was that bat who cast the evil-eye upon our monkey, the one that knew so much and used to amuse you so; for the poor little creature gasped and beat his breast, groaning like a Christian.”
“He must have eaten a scorpion, my friend.”
“How could he? It was hard work to get him to take cold victuals. Make up your mind that the witch did him harm. But that is not what I was driving at. Once, when I went to look for my mare, I met the old woman. As I am very mischievous, as soon as I saw her I crossed her path and said, ‘Look, ’ña Dominga, turn back, for people there are busy instead of being gossips.’ She trembled all over, and as I saw she was frightened I thought at once, the wretch is on a bad errand. She said one thing and another, but I left
