n
sending her had left her upon seeing the captain.

When the messenger had gone away he wished to follow her. But the fat
old wife shook her head repeatedly. Her astuteness was quite accustomed
to eluding pursuit, and without Ferragut's knowing exactly how, she
slipped away, mingling with the groups near the Plaza of Catalunia.

"I shall not go," was the first thing that Ferragut said on finding
himself alone.

He knew just what that invitation signified. He recalled an infinite
number of former unconfessable friendships that he had had in
Barcelona,--women that he had met in other times, between voyages,
without any passion whatever, but through his vagabond curiosity,
anxious for novelty. Perhaps some one of these had seen him in the
Rambla, sending this intermediary in order to renew the old relations.
The captain probably enjoyed the fame of a rich man now that everybody
was commenting upon the amazingly good business transacted by the
proprietors of ships.

"I shall not go," he again told himself energetically. He considered it
useless to bother about this interview, to encounter the mercenary
smile of a familiar but forgotten acquaintance.

But the insistence of the recollection and the very tenacity with which
he kept repeating to himself his promise not to keep the tryst, made
Ferragut begin to suspect that it might be just as well to go after
all.

After luncheon his will-power weakened. He didn't know what to do with
himself during the afternoon. His only distraction was to visit his
cousins in their counting-houses, or to meander through the Rambla. Why
not go?... Perhaps he might be mistaken, and the interview might prove
an interesting one. At all events, he would have the chance of retiring
after a brief conversation about the past.... His curiosity was
becoming excited by the mystery.

And at three in the afternoon he took a street car that conducted him
to the new districts springing up around the base of Tibidabo.

The commercial bourgeoisie had covered these lands with an
architectural efflorescence, legitimate daughter of their dreams.
Shopkeepers and manufacturers had wished to have here a pleasure house,
traditionally called a _torre_, in order to rest on Sundays and at the
same time make a show of their wealth with these Gothic, Arabic, Greek,
and Persian creations. The most patriotic were relying on the
inspiration of native architects who had invented a Catalan art with
pointed arches