THE BRIDGE OF SAN LUIS REY
Manuel took the money.
“I shall want you to write me more letters from time to time. My uncle Pio generally writes my letters; these I do not wish him to know about. Good night. Go with God.”
“Go with God.”
Manuel descended the stairs and stood for a long time among the trees, not thinking, not moving.
Esteban knew that his brother was continually brooding over the Perichole, but he never suspected that he saw her. From time to time during the next two months a small boy would approach him in great haste and ask whether he were Manuel or Esteban, and being informed that he was only Esteban, the boy would add that Manuel was wanted at the theatre. Esteban assumed that the call was for copyist’s work and was therefore utterly unprepared for a visit that they received one night in their room.
It was almost midnight. Esteban had gone to
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