“Take them; they’re yours,” she cried, huskily, and retreated into the farthest corner of the room.

With a savage curse Gregorio put his hand to his lips and wiped away the blood, for a heavy coin had cut him.  Then he ran swiftly downstairs, and Xantippe, as she lay down wearily beside her boy, heard a woman laugh.

V—­XANTIPPE LOOKS OUT OF THE WINDOW

The Penny-farthing Shop was full of customers, and Madam Marx, the fat woman who followed Gregorio to the bar, was for a long time busy attending to her clients.  Some English war-ships had entered the harbour at sunset, and many of the sailors had lost no time in seeking out their favourite haunt.  Most of them knew Madam Marx well, as a good-natured woman who gave them plenty to drink for their money, and secreted them from the eyes of the police when the liquor overpowered them.  Consequently there was much laughter and shaking of hands, and many a rough jest, which Madam Marx responded to in broken English.  Gregorio watched the sailors gloomily.  He hated the English, for even their sailors seemed to have plenty of money, and he recalled the rich Englishman he had seen at the Cafe Paradiso, drinking champagne and buying flowers for the Hungarian woman who played the fiddle.  The scene he had just left contrasted disagreeably with the fun and jollity that surrounded him.  But he felt unable to shake off his gloom and annoyance, and Madam Marx’s attentions irritated him.  He felt that her eyes continually rested on him, that, however busy she might be, he was never out of her thoughts.  Every few minutes she would come toward him with a bottle of wine and fill up his glass, saying, “Come, my friend; wine is good and will drown your troubles.”  And though he resented her patronage, knowing he could not pay, he nevertheless drank steadily.

Every few minutes he heard the sound of horses’ hoofs on the hard roadway, and through the windows he saw the military police pass slowly on their rounds.

At last the strong drinks so amiably retailed by Madam Marx did their work, and the men lay about the floor asleep and breathing heavily.  The silence succeeding the noise startled Gregorio from his sullen humour.  Madam Marx came and sat beside him, weary as she was with her long labours, and talked volubly.  The wine had mounted to his head, and he answered her in rapid sentences, accompanying his words with gesture and grimace.  What he talked about he scarcely knew, but the woman laughed, and he took an insane delight in hearing her.  Just before daylight he fell asleep, resting his head on his arms, that were spread across the table.  Madam Marx kissed him as he slept, murmuring to herself contentedly, “Ah, well, in time.”