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قراءة كتاب The Fourth Estate, vol. 1
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
asked abruptly.
But the Señor de Belinchon only gave monosyllabic answers to all these questions.
"Do you know, Gonzalo," he said, stopping suddenly, "that I might have killed myself just now?"
"How?"
He then gave a full account of the incident of the mole, and when the story was ended, he again relapsed into a state of profound melancholy.
"I suppose the family is in bed," said Gonzalo, after he had sufficiently sympathized (at least in his own opinion) with the late peril of the merchant.
"No, they are at the theatre—one never knows what may happen, eh?"
"So you've got a theatrical company here, eh?"
"Yes, for some days past. Do you know I thought I should have been killed, Gonzalo?"
"Tush! You might, perhaps, have broken a leg, or at the worst, a rib or two."
"Well, that would have been bad enough!" exclaimed the Señor de Belinchon, with a sigh.
By this time they had proceeded some distance into the town, and arriving at a certain street, Don Rosendo took leave of the uncle and nephew. He held out his hand in a sad way, saying:
"I must go and fetch my family from the theatre. Until to-morrow, and a good night's rest to you, Gonzalo."
"Until to-morrow—kind regards to all."
Then the Señor de las Cuevas and his nephew went on together to their house; and the traveler had to undergo a torrent of questions not relative to his visit to England, but concerning particulars of the voyage home.
"What wind did you have? Pretty blusterous, eh? I suppose it hardly sank once? The ship didn't pitch much, eh? She was well loaded. You never sailed with all that canvas, eh? You had to reef on leaving Liverpool, eh? I know the course well."
Gonzalo replied to the questions in an absent-minded manner, for he really hardly took them in, as he was walking along in a state of abstraction, with his head down.
"What is the matter, Gonzalito? You seem low-spirited."
"I? Bah! no, señor."
"I know you are."
They proceeded some distance in silence, and Don Melchor, striking his forehead, exclaimed:
"I know what it is!"
"You are longing for the sea again. I have gone through just the same. I used to leap ashore after any voyage, and then I was seized with a fit of depression and a strong desire to return to the ship! This lasted two or three days, until I got accustomed to it. The fact is, I longed to get into port, but once there, I wished to be on board again. I don't know what there is so attractive in the sea, eh? That air so pure! The motion! The freedom! I know you are longing to return to the ship, eh?" he concluded, with a mischievous smile, to show his perspicacity.
"Bother it all! what I am longing for, uncle, is to go and see my sweetheart."
Don Melchor was dumfounded.
"Is that true?"
"Of course it is."
The Señor de las Cuevas reflected a minute, and then said:
"All right; perhaps you would like to go and meet her at the theatre? In the meanwhile I will go and see if Domingo has improved."
"How can he improve? He is a first-rate fellow," returned the youth, smiling.
The uncle, oblivious of the irony, looked at him with scorn.
"Get along! I see you return as silly as you went. I will wait supper for you."
"Don't wait for me, uncle," replied Gonzalo, already some distance off. "Perhaps I shall not want supper."
Then, without running, but with extraordinary swiftness, thanks to his unusually long legs, he strode through the streets, lighted here and there by oil lamps, in the direction of the theatre. Any one meeting him just then would have taken him for one of the many Englishmen who occasionally come to Sarrio on shipping business, to reconnoitre mining districts, or to start some industry. His colossal height and his stout, robust appearance are not characteristic features of the Spanish race, although one comes across them in the north; then that long coat, those double-soled boots, and strange-shaped hat denoted the foreigner. A glance at the face completed the illusion, for it was fair; and the long red beard, and blue, or, more properly called, azure eyes are almost always seen in the northern races.