"The devil! They have put a hole in my head, the----Jacinto, Jacinto!
But what an abominable neighborhood this is!"

"Good Heavens! what have I done!" exclaimed Florentina, filled with
consternation. "I have struck Senor Don Inocencio on the head."

"The Penitentiary?" said Pepe Rey.

"Yes."

"Does he live in that house?"

"Why, where else should he live?"

"And the lady of the sighs----"

"Is his niece, his housekeeper, or whatever else she may be. We
amuse ourselves with her because she is very tiresome, but we are not
accustomed to play tricks on his reverence, the Penitentiary."

While this dialogue was being rapidly carried on, Pepe Rey saw, in front
of the terrace and very near him, a window belonging to the bombarded
house open; he saw a smiling face appear at it--a familiar face--a face
the sight of which stunned him, terrified him, made him turn pale and
tremble. It was that of Jacinto, who, interrupted in his grave studies,
appeared at it with his pen behind his ear. His modest, fresh, and
smiling countenance, appearing in this way, had an auroral aspect.

"Good-afternoon, Senor Don Jose," he said gayly.