If I were to go early in the morning and tell that fat, bilious man: "Look here, your Ortega's mad," he would certainly think at once that I was, get very frightened, and...one couldn't tell what course he would take.He would eliminate me somehow out of the affair.And yet I could not let the fellow proceed to where Dona Rita was, because, obviously, he had been molesting her, had filled her with uneasiness and even alarm, was an unhappy element and a disturbing influence in her life - incredible as the thing appeared! I couldn't let him go on to make himself a worry and a nuisance, drive her out from a town in which she wished to be (for whatever reason) and perhaps start some explosive scandal.And that girl Rose seemed to fear something graver even than a scandal.
But if I were to explain the matter fully to H.he would simply rejoice in his heart.Nothing would please him more than to have Dona Rita driven out of Tolosa.What a relief from his anxieties (and his wife's, too); and if I were to go further, if I even went so far as to hint at the fears which Rose had not been able to conceal from me, why then - I went on thinking coldly with a stoical rejection of the most elementary faith in mankind's rectitude - why then, that accommodating husband would simply let the ominous messenger have his chance.He would see there only his natural anxieties being laid to rest for ever.Horrible? Yes.
But I could not take the risk.In a twelvemonth I had travelled a long way in my mistrust of mankind.
We paced on steadily.I thought: "How on earth am I going to stop you?" Had this arisen only a month before, when I had the means at hand and Dominic to confide in, I would have simply kidnapped the fellow.A little trip to sea would not have done Senor Ortega any harm; though no doubt it would have been abhorrent to his feelings.
But now I had not the means.I couldn't even tell where my poor Dominic was hiding his diminished head.
Again I glanced at him sideways.I was the taller of the two and as it happened I met in the light of the street lamp his own stealthy glance directed up at me with an agonized expression, an expression that made me fancy I could see the man's very soul writhing in his body like an impaled worm.In spite of my utter inexperience I had some notion of the images that rushed into his mind at the sight of any man who had approached Dona Rita.It was enough to awaken in any human being a movement of horrified compassion; but my pity went out not to him but to Dona Rita.It was for her that I felt sorry; I pitied her for having that damned soul on her track.I pitied her with tenderness and indignation, as if this had been both a danger and a dishonour.
I don't mean to say that those thoughts passed through my head consciously.I had only the resultant, settled feeling.I had, however, a thought, too.It came on me suddenly, and I asked myself with rage and astonishment: "Must I then kill that brute?"There didn't seem to be any alternative.Between him and Dona Rita I couldn't hesitate.I believe I gave a slight laugh of desperation.The suddenness of this sinister conclusion had in it something comic and unbelievable.It loosened my grip on my mental processes.A Latin tag came into my head about the facile descent into the abyss.I marvelled at its aptness, and also that it should have come to me so pat.But I believe now that it was suggested simply by the actual declivity of the street of the Consuls which lies on a gentle slope.We had just turned the corner.All the houses were dark and in a perspective of complete solitude our two shadows dodged and wheeled about our feet.
"Here we are," I said.
He was an extraordinarily chilly devil.When we stopped I could hear his teeth chattering again.I don't know what came over me, Ihad a sort of nervous fit, was incapable of finding my pockets, let alone the latchkey.I had the illusion of a narrow streak of light on the wall of the house as if it had been cracked."I hope we will be able to get in," I murmured.
Senor Ortega stood waiting patiently with his handbag, like a rescued wayfarer."But you live in this house, don't you?" he observed.
"No," I said, without hesitation.I didn't know how that man would behave if he were aware that I was staying under the same roof.He was half mad.He might want to talk all night, try crazily to invade my privacy.How could I tell? Moreover, I wasn't so sure that I would remain in the house.I had some notion of going out again and walking up and down the street of the Consuls till daylight."No, an absent friend lets me use...I had that latchkey this morning...Ah! here it is."I let him go in first.The sickly gas flame was there on duty, undaunted, waiting for the end of the world to come and put it out.
