ter's
questions when he appeared at rare intervals in the studio.

"You must know good women, Soldevilla: You have been around a great deal
in spite of that angel face of yours. You must take me with you. You
must introduce me."

"Master!" the youth would exclaim in surprise, "it isn't yet six months
since I was married! I never go out at night! How you joke!"

Renovates answered with a scornful glance. A fine life! No youth, no
joy! He spent all his money on variegated waistcoats and high collars.
What a perfect ant! He had married a rich woman, since he couldn't catch
the master's daughter. Besides, he was an ungrateful scamp. Now he was
joining the master's enemies, convinced that he could get nothing more
out of him. He scorned him. It was too bad that his protection had
caused him so much inconvenience! He was no artist.

And the master went back with new affection to his companions, those
merry youths, slandering and disrespectful as they were. He recognized
talent in them all.

The gossip about his extraordinary life reached even his daughter, with
the rapid spread which anything prejudicial to a famous man acquires.

Milita scowled, trying to restrain the laughter which the strangeness of
this change aroused. Her father becoming a rake!

"Papa! Papa!" she exclaimed in a comic tone of reproach.

And papa made excuses like a naughty, hypocritical little boy,
increasing by his perturbation his daughter's desire to laugh.

Lopez de Sosa seemed inclined to be indulgent toward his father-in-law.
Poor old gentleman! All his life working, with a sick wife, who was very
good and kind, to be sure, but who had embittered his life! She did well
to die, and the artist did quite as well in making up for the time he
had lost.

With the instinctive freemasonry of all those who lead an easy, merry
life, the sport defended his father-in-law, supported him, found him
more attractive, more congenial, as a result of his new habits. A man
must not always stay shut up in his studio with the irritated air of a
prophet, talking about things which nobody would understand.

They met each other in the evening during the last acts at the theaters
and music halls, when the songs and dances were accompanied by the
audience with a storm of cries and stamping. They greeted each other,
the father inquired for Milita, they smiled with the sympathy of two
good fellows and each went back to his group; the son-in-law to his
club-mates i