At dinner the talk turned on the bull-fight. Don Bernardo had already been informed by the newspapers of his son's prowess; and though secretly, at the bottom of his heart, he was flattered by the applause that he had won, he did not fail to appear stern, and to chide him, although not as severely as sometimes.
"Come now, Enrique, let this be the last time that you make a public exhibition of yourself in this way. You know that I do not like to have a son of mine play the rôle of _torero_, even though he do it well."
Enrique understood well that his father was not really angry, and was assured of the truth of the old adage, "Success pardons all dubious steps."
He lighted his cigar, wrapped the bloody ear in a rag, put it in his pocket, and went down into the street, directing his steps toward the Café Imperial, with the hope of there receiving fresh congratulations from his intelligent friends, and to spend the whole afternoon talking about the bull-fight of Vallecas: on the way he intended to call at Severini's.
It was half-past three, and pretty hot. Our lieutenant (for he had been promoted) was walking along the Calle del Baño, dressed in the latest style, in Prince Albert coat tightly buttoned up, light pantaloons, patent leather boots, and a sombrero with a peaked crown.
It was his idea to dress himself so in place of his ordinary "b'hoy's" fighting garb, so as to give greater force and relief to his portentous sword-thrust of the day before. He walked slowly, with the assured and overweening gait of a man satisfied with himself, casting keen glances at those whom he passed, to see if they recognized him, and puffing forth great clouds of smoke. Never had he felt so happy in body and mind.
At the door of a "dairy" a young girl was seated with a book in her hands. Enrique, as he passed, glanced at her, and the philanthropic feelings which he felt toward every living thing caused him to pause a moment and gaze at her with smiling eyes. The girl looked up with her big black eyes, the expression of which was half proud and half mischievous, and after staring at him for some time, she again gave her attention to her book, showing marked indifference.
Enrique stepped up in front of her, and stopped, saying in mellifluous accents:--