«They’re razzing Don Manuel,» Bill said.
«How do you know he’s Don Manuel?» Brett said.
«His name’s on the programme. Don Manuel Orquito, the pirotecnico of esta ciudad.» «Globos illuminados,» Mike said. «A collection of globos illuminados. That’s what the paper
said.»
The wind blew the band music away.
«I say, I wish one would go up,» Brett said. «That Don Manuel chap is furious.»
«He’s probably worked for weeks fixing them to go off, spelling out ‘Hail to San Fermin,’ « Bill said.
«Globos illuminados,» Mike said. «A bunch of bloody globos illuminados.» «Come on,» said Brett. «We can’t stand here.»
«Her ladyship wants a drink,» Mike said. «How you know things,» Brett said.
Inside, the cafй was crowded and very noisy. No one noticed us come in. We could not find a table. There wasa great noise going on.
«Come on, let’s get out of here,» Bill said.
Outside the paseo was going in under the arcade. There were some English and Americans from Biarritz in sport clothes scattered at the tables. Some of the women stared at the people going by with lorgnons. We had acquired, at some time, a friend of Bill’s from Biarritz. She was staying with another girl at the Grand Hotel. The other girl had a headache and had gone to bed.
«Here’s the pub,» Mike said. It was the Bar Milano, a small, tough bar where you could get food and where they danced in the back room. We all sat down at a table and ordered a bottle of Fundador. The bar was not full. There was nothing going on.
«This is a hell of a place,» Bill said. «It’s too early.»
«Let’s take the bottle and come back later,» Bill said. «I don’t want to sit here on a night like this.»
«Let’s go and look at the English,» Mike said. «I love to look at the English.» «They’re awful,» Bill said. «Where did they all come from?»
«They come from Biarritz,» Mike said. «They come to see the last day of the quaint little Spanish fiesta.»
«I’ll festa them,» Bill said.
«You’re an extraordinarily beautiful girl.» Mike turned to Bill’s friend. «When did you come here?»
«Come off it, Michael.»
«I say, sheis a lovely girl. Where have I been? Where have I been looking all this while? You’re a lovely thing. Have we met? Come along with me and Bill. We’re going to festa the English.»
«I’ll festa them,» Bill said. «What the hell are they doing at this fiesta?»
«Come on,» Mike said. «Just us three. We’re going to festa the bloody English. I hope you’re not English? I’m Scotch. I hate the English. I’m going to festa them. Come on, Bill.»
Through the window we saw them, all three arm in arm, going toward the cafй. Rockets were going up in the square.
«I’m going to sit here,» Brett said. «I’ll stay with you,» Cohn said.
«Oh, don’t!» Brett said. «For God’s sake, go off somewhere. Can’t you see Jake and I want to talk?»
«I didn’t,» Cohn said. «I thought I’d sit here because I felt a little tight.»
«What a hell of a reason for sitting with any one. If you’re tight, go to bed. Go on to bed.» «Was I rude enough to him?» Brett asked. Cohn was gone. «My God! I’m so sick of him!» «He doesn’t add much to the gayety.»
«He depresses me so.» «He’s behaved very badly.»
«Damned badly. He had a chance to behave so well.» «He’s probably waiting just outside the door now.»
«Yes. He would. You know I do know how he feels. He can’t believe it didn’t mean anything.» «I know.»
«Nobody else would behave as badly. Oh, I’m so sick of the whole thing. And Michael. Michael’s been lovely, too.»
«It’s been damned hard on Mike.» «Yes. But he didn’t need to be a swine.»
«Everybody behaves badly,» I said. «Give them the proper chance.» «You wouldn’t behave badly.» Brett looked at me.
«I’d be as big an ass as Cohn,» I said. «Darling, don’t let’s talk a lot of rot.» «All right. Talk about anything you like.»
«Don’t be difficult. You’re theonly person I’ve got, and I feel rather awful to-night.» «You’ve got Mike.»
«Yes, Mike. Hasn’t he been pretty?»
«Well,» I said, «it’s been damned hard on Mike, having Cohn around and seeing him with you.» «Don’t I know it, darling? Please don’t make me feel any worse than I do.»
Brett was nervous as I had never seen her before. She kept looking away from me and looking ahead at the wall.
«Want to go for a walk?» «Yes. Come on.»
I corked up the Fundador bottle and gave it to the bartender.
«Let’s have one more drink of that,» Brett said. «My nerves are rotten.» We each drank a glass of the smooth amontillado brandy.
«Come on,» said Brett.
As we came out the door I saw Cohn walk out from underthe arcade. «He was there,» Brett said.
«He can’t be away from you.» «Poor devil!»
«I’m not sorry for him. I hate him, myself.»
«I hate him, too,» she shivered. «I hate his damned suffering.»
We walked arm in arm down the side Street away from the crowd and the lights of the square. The street was dark and wet, and we walked along it to the fortifications at the edge of town. We passed wine-shops with light coming out from their doors onto the black, wet street, and sudden bursts of music.
«Want to go in?» «No.»
We walked out across the wet grass and onto the stone wall of the fortifications. I spread a newspaper on the stone and Brett sat down. Across the plain it was dark, and we could see the mountains. The wind was high up and took theclouds across the moon. Below us were the dark pits of the fortifications. Behind were the trees and the shadow of the cathedral, and the town silhouetted against the moon.
«Don’t feel bad,» I said.
«I feel like hell,» Brett said. «Don’t let’s talk.»
We looked out at the plain. The long lines of trees were dark in the moonlight. There were the lights of a car on the road climbing the mountain. Up on the top of the mountain we saw the lights of the fort. Below to the left was the river. It was high from the rain, and black and smooth. Trees were dark along the banks. We sat and looked out. Brett stared straight ahead. Suddenly she shivered.
«It’s cold.»
«Want to walk back?» «Through the park.»
We climbed down. It was clouding over again. In thepark it was dark under the trees. «Do you still love me, Jake?»
«Yes,» I said.
«Because I’m a goner,» Brett said. «How?»
«I’m a goner. I’m mad about the Romero boy. I’m in love with him, I think.» «I wouldn’t be if I were you.»
«I can’t help it. I’m a goner. It’s tearing me all up inside.» «Don’t do it.»
«I can’t help it. I’ve never been able to help anything.» «You ought to stop it.»
«How can I stop it? I can’t stop things. Feel that?» Her hand was trembling.
«I’m like that all through.» «You oughtn’t to do it.»
«I can’t help it. I’m a goner now, anyway. Don’t you see the difference?» «No.»
«I’ve got to do something. I’ve got to do something I really want to do. I’ve lost my self-respect.»
«You don’t have to do that.»
«Oh, darling, don’t be difficult. What do you think it’s meant to have that damned Jew about, and Mike the way he’s acted?»
«Sure.»
«I can’t just stay tight all the time.» «No.»
«Oh, darling, please stay by me. Please stay by me and see me through this.» «Sure.»
«I don’t say it’s right. It is right though for me. God knows, I’ve never felt such a bitch.» «What do you want me to do?»
«Come on,» Brett said. «Let’s go and find him.»
Together we walked down the gravel path in thepark in the dark, under the trees and then out from under the trees and past the gate into the Street that led into town.
Pedro Romero was in the cafй. He was at a table with other bullfighters and bull-fight critics. They were smoking cigars. When we came in they looked up. Romero smiled and bowed. We sat down at a table half-way down the room.
«Ask him to come over and have a drink.» «Not yet. He’ll come over.»
«I can’t look at him.»
«He’s nice to look at,» I said.
«I’ve always done just what I wanted.» «I know.»
«I do feel such a bitch.» «Well,» I said.
«My God!» said Brett, «the things a woman goes through.» «Yes?»
«Oh, I do feel such a bitch.»
I looked across at the table. Pedro Romero smiled. He said something to the other people at his table, and stood up. He came over to our table. I stood up and we shook hands.
«Won’t you have a drink?»
«You must have a drink with me,» he said. He seated himself, asking Brett’s permission without saying anything. He had very nice manners. But he kept on smoking his cigar. It went well with his face.
«You like cigars?» I asked.
«Oh, yes. I always smoke cigars.»
It was part of his system of authority. It made him seem older. I noticed his skin. It was clear and smooth and very brown. There was a triangular scar on his cheek-bone. I saw he was watching Brett. He felt there was something between them. He must have felt it when Brett gave him her hand. He was being very careful. I
