nt," he said, when he had arrived, drawing Madam Giron apart from
the small Girons who encompassed her, "what is
'Co--ome--oonplay--weetyer--torp?'"

But Madam Giron could not tell him; her English was not imaginative
enough to enable her to comprehend her nephew's pronunciations. Torres
decided that he would go and ask Manuel, and rowed himself across to
Patricio for the purpose; this not being a state occasion, it was
allowable to ply the oars.

"Manuel, what is 'Co--ome--oonplay--weetyer--torp?'" he said, appearing
on the piazza of Manuel's room, which formed one of the wings of the
rambling old house.

But Manuel was in a desperate humor; he was putting on his hat, then
dragging it off again, and rushing up and down the room with a rapid
step; he glared at his friend, but would not reply.

"I asked you, Manuel, what is 'Co--ome--oonplay--weetyer--torp?'"
repeated Torres. "It is what the Gracias-a-Dios doctor said to me, as
answer, when (after very long stupidity on his part; I can say it to
you, Manuel--doltishly long) he at last comprehended that I was
requesting his permission to address the Senorita Duero. Naturally, as
you will now understand, I desire a careful translation."

Manuel laughed bitterly. "So you've got it too! But _I_ went to the girl
herself, as you would have done if you hadn't been such a ninny; but
you're always a ninny. What do you suppose she said to me--yes, Garda
herself?" he went on, furiously, dropping, in the recital of his wrongs,
even the pleasure of abusing his friend. "Here I only went to her
because she is so alone now, so unhappy, it was pure compassion on my
part; I made sacrifices, _sacrifices_, I tell you, and poignant ones!--I
intended to see the world first. Am I not in the flower of my youth--I
ask you that? Am I not keenly pleasing? But--everybody knows! Well, was
she grateful? I leave you to judge! She deliberately said--yes, in so
many words--that she had never cared for me, when the whole world knows
she has cared to distraction, to frenzy. And she had the effrontery to
add that the only person she cared for--and for him she cared 'day and
night'--was that--that--" In his rage Manuel could not speak the name,
but he seized a great knife with a sharp edge, and cut straight through
a book which was lying on the table. "There!" he cried, throwing the
severed leaves in handfuls about the room, "that is how I will serve
him--Spenser-r-r-r! Let him come on!" And he continu