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“Then, my dear Baroness, good-bye until one of these days when I’ll bring you the documents. Dear lady ... at your feet.”

“Ay, how ceremonious! Good-bye, Mingote! See him out, Manuel.”

The two men walked to the door together. There the agent placed his hands upon the youth’s shoulders.

“Good-bye, my lad,” he said. “And don’t forget, if ever you should become a baron in real earnest, that you owe it all to me.”

“I’ll not forget. You needn’t worry on that score,” answered Manuel.

“You’ll always remember your protector?”

“Always.”

“My son, preserve that filial piety. For a protector such as I is almost like a father. He is ... I was about to say, the arm of Providence. I feel deeply moved.... I am no longer young. Have you, by any chance, a few coins in your pocket?”

“No.”

“That’s too bad,” and Mingote, after a sweep with his cane, left the house.

Manuel closed the door and returned to the room on tip-toe.

“Chucha! Chucha!” called the baroness. And when the mulattress appeared who had opened the door to Mingote and Manuel, the baroness said to her: