But, as though he wished to acknowledge this exertion on his brother’s part by something which would please him, when he returned to the Claverias he dropped his usual sullen face, and spoke to his daughter during the meal.

Towards evening the Claverias were quite deserted.  Don Antolin hurried down with his tickets, rejoicing in the knowledge that many strangers were waiting for him.  The Tato and the bell-ringer had slipped furtively down the tower stairs, dressed in their best clothes; they were going to the bull-fight.  Sagrario obliged to be idle in order to keep the feast day holy, had gone to the shoemaker’s house, and while he was showing the giants to the servants and soldiers of the academy, and the peasants from the country, Luna’s niece helped to mend the clothes for the poor woman crushed by poverty and the superabundance of children.

When the Chapel-master and the Wooden Staff went down to the choir, Gabriel went out into the cloister.  He could only see there a cadet who was walking up and down, with his hand on the pommel of his sword, holding it horizontally like the fiery tizonas[1] of former days.  Luna recognised him by the full pantaloons and the wasplike waist, which made the Tato declare that this particular cadet wore stays—­it was Juanito the cardinal’s nephew.  He often walked in the cloister, hoping for an opportunity to talk with Leocadia, the beautiful daughter of the Virgin’s sacristan.  From the parents he had nothing to fear, but the future warrior had a certain dread of Tomasa, as the old lady looked on these visits with an evil eye, and threatened to make them known to his uncle the Cardinal.

[Footnote 1:  Tizona—­name of the Cid’s sword.]

Gabriel had often spoken to the cadet, for when the youth met him in the cloister he always stopped to speak, endeavouring by the platitudes of his conversation to justify his presence in the Claverias; but Luna was surprised to meet him there on a festival afternoon.

“Are you not going to the bull-fight?” he inquired.  “I thought everyone from the academy would be in the Plaza.”

Juanito smiled, caressing his moustache; it was his favourite gesture, as it raised his arm, giving him the satisfaction of displaying the sleeve adorned with sergeant’s stripes.  He was not a common cadet, he had his stripes, and though this did not seem much to one who dreamed of being a general, still it was a step in the right direction.  No; he did not go to bull-fights.  In truth he was an habitue but he had sacrificed himself in order to talk for a whole afternoon with his sweetheart at the door of her house in the silence of the Claverias.  The grandmother had gone down into the garden, and “Virgin’s Blue” would not be long in going out and leaving the coast clear, as if the matter in no way concerned him.  “The beautiful evening, friend Gabriel!” He had far more serious and important affairs than the new comers at the academy, who spent all their Sundays at the cafes, or walking up and down like fools—­everyone at the academy, even the professors, envied him his sweetheart.