his dominion, he
prepared two "refrescos." He was going to treat Esteban for the first
time on this return trip. On former days, incredible as it may seem, he
had not thought of making even one of his delicious beverages. The
return from Naples to Barcelona had been a sad one: the vessel had a
funereal air without its master.

For all these reasons, Caragol's hand lavishly measured out the rum
until the liquid took on a tobacco tone.

They drank.... The young Telemachus began to talk about his father when
the glasses were only half empty, and the cook waved both hands in the
air, giving a grunt which signified that he had no wish to bother about
the captain's absence.

"Your father will return, Esteban," he added. "He will return but I
don't know when. Certainly later than Toni says."

And not wishing to say more, he gulped down the rest of the glass,
devoting himself hastily to the confection of the second "refresco" in
order to make up for lost time.

Little by little he slipped away from the prudent barrier that was
hedging in his verbosity and spoke with his old time abandon; but his
flow of words did not exactly convey news.

Caragol preached morality to Ferragut's son,--morality from his
standpoint, interrupted by frequent caresses of the glass.

"Esteban, my son, respect your father greatly. Imitate him as a seaman.
Be good and just toward the men that you command.... But avoid the
females!"

The women!... There was no better theme for his piously drunken
eloquence. The world inspired his pity. It was all governed by the
infernal attraction exercised by the female of the species. The men
were working, struggling, and trying to grow rich and celebrated, all
in order to possess one of these creatures.

"Believe me, my son, and do not imitate your father in this respect."

The old man had said too much to back out now and he had to go on,
letting out the rest of it, bit by bit. Thus Esteban learned that the
captain was enamored with a lady in Naples and that he had remained
there pretending business matters, but in reality dominated by this
woman's influence.

"Is she pretty?" asked the boy eagerly.

"Very pretty," replied Caragol. "And such odors!... And such a swishing
of fine clothes!..."

Telemachus thrilled with contradictory sensations of pride and envy. He
admired his father once more, but this admiration only lasted a few
seconds. A new idea was taking possession of him while the cook
conti