ESTEBAN
there’s nothing left to all that. I don’t love her. I only did for a time.”
By now Esteban stood in the dark of the open door. In the unnatural voice with which we make the greatest declarations of our lives, he muttered: “I’m in your way,” and turned to go.
Manuel leapt out of his bed. His head seemed to be full of a great din, a voice crying out that Esteban was going away forever, was leaving him alone forever. “In the name of God, in the name of God, Esteban, come back here.”
Esteban came back and went to bed and the matter was not mentioned again for many weeks. The very next evening Manuel had an opportunity of declaring his position. A messenger arrived from the Perichole and was told harshly to inform the actress that Manuel would write no more letters for her.
One evening Manuel tore open the flesh on his knee against a piece of metal.
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