t makes no
difference whether it was done quick or slow."

"No matter at all; we have talked enough, and I don't care to hear any
more such nonsense...."

And Enrique opened the door to let him out, and slammed it behind him,
muttering:--

"The devil take the stupid fellow! Ricardito must have given him that
idea about hurrying.... That rascal had better be ashamed of himself,
and not let Felipe Gomez hold his bull by the leg."

And fully persuaded that the stain on his rival's honor could not be
wiped out by all the perfumes of Arabia, he remained tolerably calm. The
reading of the journals, and the presence of the bloody ear, mute
witness of his courage, finally restored him to complete tranquillity.

But one thing afterwards occurred to disturb his peace of mind, and that
was the way of preserving his trophy. If it were left in its present
state, it would soon become offensive. Should he put it in alcohol? Then
the hair would come off, and it would be turned into a piece of ugly
gristle. Should he have it mounted? He would have to go out and make
inquiries. He made up his mind to go immediately after dinner to
Severini, the great taxidermist of San Jeronimo Avenue.

At dinner the talk turned on the bull-fight. Don Bernardo had already
been informed by the newspapers of his son's prowess; and though
secretly, at the bottom of his heart, he was flattered by the applause
that he had won, he did not fail to appear stern, and to chide him,
although not as severely as sometimes.

"Come now, Enrique, let this be the last time that you make a public
exhibition of yourself in this way. You know that I do not like to have
a son of mine play the role of _torero_, even though he do it well."

Enrique understood well that his father was not really angry, and was
assured of the truth of the old adage, "Success pardons all dubious
steps."

He lighted his cigar, wrapped the bloody ear in a rag, put it in his
pocket, and went down into the street, directing his steps toward the
Cafe Imperial, with the hope of there receiving fresh congratulations
from his intelligent friends, and to spend the whole afternoon talking
about the bull-fight of Vallecas: on the way he intended to call at
Severini's.

It was half-past three, and pretty hot. Our lieutenant (for he had been
promoted) was walking along the Calle del Bano, dressed in the latest
style, in Prince Albert coat tightly buttoned up, light pantaloons,
patent leather boot