No! It is not HIS look, now
that his face changes. I am crazy." He stopped, and passed his
trembling hands across his eyes. "Pardon, Senor," he continued,
recalling himself with a humility that was almost ironical in its
extravagance. "Pardon, pardon! Yet, perhaps it is not too much to
have wanted to know who was the man one has saved."
"Saved!" repeated Guest, with incredulous contempt.
"Ay!" said Pereo, haughtily, drawing his figure erect; ay, saved!
Senor." He stopped and shrugged his shoulders. "But let it pass--
I say--let it pass. Take an old man's advice, friend: show not
your gold hereafter to strangers lightly, no matter how lightly you
have come by it. Good-night!"
Guest for a moment hesitated whether to resent the old man's
speech, or to let it pass as the incoherent fancy of a brain
maddened by drink. Then he ended the discussion by turning his
back abruptly and continuing his way to the high-road.
"So!" said Pereo, looking after him with abstracted eyes, "so! it
was only a fancy. And yet--even now, as he turned away, I saw the
same cold insolence in his eye. Caramba! Am I mad--mad--that I
must keep forever before my eyes, night and day, the image of that
dog in every outcast, every ruffian, every wayside bully that I
meet? No, no, good Pereo! Softly! this is mere madness, good
Pereo," he murmured to himself; "thou wilt have none of it; none,
good Pereo. Come, come!" He let his head fall slowly forward on
his breast, and in that action, seeming to take up again the burden
of a score more years upon his shoulders, he moved slowly away.
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