"You may fancy that the moment I was off guard I went to Triana; but first of all I got myself shaved and brushed myself up as if I had been going on parade. She was living with Lillas Pastia, an old fried-fish seller, a gipsy, as black as a Moor, to whose house a great many civilians resorted to eat fritata, especially, I think, because Carmen had taken up her quarters there.
"'Lillas,' she said, as soon as she saw me, 'I'm not going to work any more to-day. To-morrow will be a day, too.[1] Come, fellow-countryman, let us go for a walk!'
"She pulled her mantilla across her nose, and there we were in the street, without my knowing in the least whither I was bound.
"'Señorita,' said I, 'I think I have to thank you for a present I had while I was in prison. I've eaten the bread; the file will do for sharpening my lance, and I keep it in remembrance of you. But as for the money, here it is.'
"'Why, he's kept the money!' she exclaimed, bursting out laughing. 'But, after all, that's all the better—for I'm decidedly hard up! What matter! The dog that runs never
- ↑ Mañana será otro día.—A Spanish proverb.
