Chapter 20 Chapter Nineteen

In the morning, it was all over.The festive event has ended.I woke up around nine, took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs.The square was empty, and there was no one on the street.There are several children picking up fireworks sticks in the square.The café had just opened, and the waiters were moving the comfortable white wicker chairs to the shade under the arcade and arranging them around the marble-topped tables.Streets are being swept and hosed down. I sat in a wicker chair, leaning back comfortably.The waiter came over in a hurry.White notices to let the cows out of the cages and large overtime train timetables are still posted on the pillars of the arcade.A waiter in a blue apron came out with a bucket of water and a rag. He tore up the notice, strips of paper, and scrubbed away the remaining paper stuck to the stone pillar.The festival is over.

I had a cup of coffee, and Bill came in a moment.I watched him come across the square.He sat down at the table and ordered a cup of coffee. "Well," he said, "it's all over." "Yeah," I said. "when are you leaving?" "I don't know. I think we'd better get a car. You're not going back to Paris?" "Yes, I can stay a week before going back. I want to go to San Sebastián." "I want to go back." "What is Mike going to do?" "He's going to Saint-Jean-de-Luz." "Let's hire a car and drive together to Bayonne before we part. You can get on the train from there tonight."

"Okay. Let's go after dinner." "Okay. I'll hire a car." We finished our meal and paid the bill.Montoya did not come to our side.The bill was brought by a maid.The car is waiting outside.The driver piled the bags on the roof, strapped them in, put the rest beside himself in the front seat of the car, and we got in.The car drove out of the square, through the alley, out of the woods, down the hill, and left Pamplona.The journey doesn't seem very long.Mike brought a bottle of Fantato.I only drank two or three sips.We climbed a few ridges, left the Spanish border, drove on the white road, through the shady, wet and green Basque Country, and finally entered Bayonne.We left Bill's luggage at the station, and he bought a ticket to Paris.The train he took left at seven ten that night.We walk out of the station.The car was parked outside the main entrance of the station.

"What are we going to do with this car?" Bill asked. "Oh, what a liability the car is," Mike said. "Then let's just sit on it and go." "Okay," Bill said. "Where are we going?" "Let's go to Biarritz for a drink." "Good spender Mike," Bill said. We drove into Biarritz and got off in front of a very luxurious hotel.We went into the bar and sat on stools drinking whiskey and soda. "This time I'm the host," Mike said. "Let's roll the dice." So we rolled the poker dice in a tall leather dice holder, and Bill won the first round.Mike lost to me and handed the barman a hundred-franc note.Twelve francs a glass of whiskey.We each asked for another glass of wine, and Mike lost again.Every time he gave the waiter a generous tip.There was a good jazz band playing in a room next door to the bar.This is a pleasant bar.We each ordered another glass of wine.I won the first game with four old Ks.Bill and Mike toss.Mike won the first frame with four jacks.Bill won the second game.In the final decisive round, Mike threw three old kings and counted.He handed the dice cylinder to Bill.Bill rattled and rattled, throwing three old kings, an ace and a zero.

"You pay the bill, Mike," Bill said. "Mike, you gambler." "I'm so sorry," Mike said. "I can not make it." "what happened?" "I'm out of money," Mike said. "I'm broke. I have only twenty francs. Here, take the twenty francs." Bill's face changed a little. "I just happened to have enough money to pay Montoya. I was lucky to have that money with me at the time." "Write a check and I'll cash you," Bill said. "Thank you very much, but you know I can't write checks."

"Then where are you going to get the money?" "Well, there's a small sum coming. I've got two weeks' living expenses due. Go to the hotel at Saint-Jean-de-Luz and I'll have credit." "Say, what about this car?" Bill asked me. "Are you still using it?" "Anything is fine. Seems a little silly." "Come on, let's have another drink of it," Mike said. "Okay. This time it's mine," Bill said. "Has Brett got any money around?" he said to Mike. "I don't think she has. Almost all the money I paid Montoya came from her."

"She doesn't have a dime?" I asked. "I suppose so. She never had any money. She gets five hundred pounds a year, and the interest to the Jews is three hundred and fifty." "I think they deducted it directly," Bill said. "True. Actually they're not Jewish. That's what we call them. I know they're Scots." "She really has no money at all?" I asked. "I think it's safe to say no. She gave it all to me when she went away." "Come on," Bill said, "let's have another drink." "That's a great idea," Mike said. "Talking about money won't solve anything."

"That's right," Bill said.We then ordered drinks twice, and Bill and I rolled the dice to see who would pay.Bill lost and paid up.We got out and walked to the car. "Where do you want to go, Mike?" Bill asked. "Let's go for a walk. It might improve my reputation. Let's go around the area." "Very well. I want to see the sea. Let us drive straight to Hendaye." "I don't have much credit for credit around the coast." "You can't tell for sure," Bill said. We drove along the coastal road.There are lush green land, villas with white walls and red tiles, dense forests, and the blue sea at ebb tide, which is nestled on the edge of the beach in the distance.We drove past Saint-Jean-de-Luz and headed south through seaside villages.We passed the undulating country and saw behind it the mountains we had crossed on our way from Pamplona.The avenue continues to stretch forward.Bill looked at his watch.We should go back.He knocked on the window and told the driver to turn around.The driver backed the car to the grass on the side of the road and turned the car around.Behind us was the woods, and below us was a meadow, and beyond that was the sea.

In Saint-Jean-de-Luz we parked in front of the hotel where Mike was staying and he got out.The driver sent his handbag inside.Mike stood by the car. "Goodbye, friends," Mike said. "It's been a great holiday." "Goodbye, Mike," Bill said. "We'll see each other soon," I said. "Don't worry about money," Mike said. "You paid for the car, Jack, and I'll send you mine." "Goodbye, Mike." "Good-bye, friends. You are quite friends." We shook hands with him one by one.We waved to Mike in the car.He stood on the avenue and watched us go on our way.We reached Bayonne just as the train was about to leave.A porter brought Bill's traveling bag from the locker.I walked him all the way to the low gate leading to the railroad tracks.

"Goodbye, buddy," Bill said. "Goodbye, brother!" "It's a good time. I'm having a good time." "You are staying in Paris?" "No. I must embark on the sixteenth. Good-bye, mate!" "Goodbye, brother!" He went in and walked towards the train.The porter went ahead with a travel bag.I watched the train leave the station.Bill was at a car window.The window flashed by, the whole train drove away, the tracks were empty.I got out and walked to the car. "How much should we pay you?" I asked the driver, who had been promised one hundred and fifty pesetas for the trip from Spain to Bayonne.

"Two hundred pesetas." "How much will it cost you to drive me to San Sebastián on the way back?" "Fifty pesetas." "Don't rip me off." "Thirty-five pesetas." "Too expensive," I said. "Take me to the Hotel Panieu Flory." When I got to the hotel, I paid the driver the fare and a tip.The body was covered with dust.I wipe the dust off the rod bag.This dust seems to be the last thing that connects me to Spain and its festivals.The driver started the car and drove down the street.I watched the car turn the corner, onto the road to Spain.I went into the hotel and got a room.I slept in this room when Bill and Cohn and I were in Bayonne.This seems like a long time ago.I freshened up, changed into a shirt, and went out for a walk in the street. I bought a copy of the New York Herald at a newsstand and sat in a café and read it.Returning to France feels unfamiliar.There is a sense of safety in the suburbs here.I wish I could go back to Paris with Bill, but Paris means more fun.For the time being I'm tired of having fun.San Sebastián is quiet.The tourist season doesn't start until August.I can rent a good room in a hotel, read a book, and swim.There's a beach resort over there.There are many wonderful trees along the promenade above the beach, and many children come with nannies for the summer before the tourist season begins.In the evening, there are often band concerts in the woods opposite the Cafe Marinas.I can sit in a cafe and listen to music. "How's the food inside?" I asked the waiter.Behind the cafe is a restaurant. "Very good. Very good. Very good food." "Ok." I go in to eat.As far as France is concerned, this meal is very rich, but after eating Spain, the combination of dishes appears to be very delicate.I drank a bottle of wine to relieve my boredom.It was a good bottle of Château Margaux.Drinking alone, savoring carefully, is a lot of fun.It's a bottle race buddy.After drinking, I asked for coffee.The waiter recommended me a Basque Rigiu called Izzara.He brought a bottle and filled a glass.He said Izarra was made from flowers in the Pyrenees.are true flowers of the Pyrenees.The wine looked like pomade and smelled like Strega.I told him to take the flowers from the Pyrenees and bring me a glass of old brandy.This wine is very good.I finished my coffee and drank another cup. The Pyrenees flowers thing seemed to offend the waiter a bit, so I tipped him a bit more.This makes him very happy.It is pleasant to be in a country where it is so easy to please.In Spain, you cannot guess in advance whether a waiter will thank you.In France, everything is based on this naked money.Life in such a country is the easiest.No one will complicate the relationship by making friends with you for some ambiguous reason.You need to spend a little money to please people.I spent a little money and the waiter liked me.He appreciates this valuable quality in me.He will welcome me again.Someday I will dine there again, and he will welcome me to sit at his own table.This liking is sincere, because there is a solid foundation. I did return to France. The next morning, in order to make more friends, I tipped each of the hotel bellboys a little extra, and took the morning train to San Sebastián.At the station, I did not tip the porter more than I should have given, since I did not expect to see him again.I just hope to have a few good French friends in Bayonne, and it will be enough to be welcomed when I go again.I know their friendship will be faithful as long as they remember me. I had to change trains in Irun and show my passport.I don't want to leave France.How easy it is to live in France.I think it would be foolish to go to Spain again.Everything is unpredictable in Spain.I felt foolish to go to Spain again, but I queued up with my passport, opened my handbag for the customs guy, bought a ticket, went through a gate, climbed on the train, and after forty minutes and through Eight tunnels later, I came to San Sebastián. Even on a hot day, San Sebastián has a certain early-morning quality.The green leaves on the trees seem to be never dry from the dew.The streets look like they have just been sprinkled with water.There are also a few streets that are always shaded on the hottest days.I found a hotel in the city where I had stayed in the past, and they gave me a room with a balcony that went over the roofs of the city.In the distance are green hills. I opened my handbag, piled my books on the bedside table, took out my shaving kit, hung a few clothes in the coat closet, and packed a bag of laundry.Then took a shower in the bathroom and went downstairs to eat.Spain hasn't switched to DST yet, so I'm here early.I set my watch back one hour.When I came to San Sebastian, I found an hour back. When I entered the restaurant, the concierge brought me a form from the police station to fill out.I signed, asked him for two telegrams, and wrote a message to Montoya's Hotel, instructing them to forward all my mail and telegrams to my present residence.I figured out how many days I was going to be in San Sebastian, and then sent a telegram to the editorial office, telling them to keep the mail for me, but that the telegrams within six days had to be forwarded to San Sebastian.Then I went into the restaurant to eat. After dinner, I went upstairs to my room, read a book for a while, and then fell asleep.When I woke up, it was half past four.I got out my bathing suit, wrapped a comb in a towel, and went downstairs and up the street to Concha Bay.The tide was almost half out.The beach is flat and firm, with fine yellow sand.I went into the bathroom locker room, took off my clothes, put on my swimsuit, and walked across the flat sand to the beach.Stepping on the sand with bare feet, I feel warm.There are many people in the sea and on the beach.The capes on both sides of Concha Bay are almost connected to form a harbor. Outside the cape is a row of white waves and open sea.Although it was the time of low tide, there were still some huge waves that came slowly.They come like fine waves on the sea, and then they get bigger and bigger, setting off a wave, and finally they wash smoothly on the warm sand.I wade out to sea.The sea is very cold.When a wave came, I dived, swam out of the bottom, and floated to the surface, when the chill was gone.I swam to the raft, stretched myself up, and lay down on the hot planks.At the other end was a young man and a young man.The girl untied the straps of her bathing suit to dry her back.The lad was lying face down on the raft and talking to her.She listened, giggling, and turning her tanned back toward the sun.I lay on the raft in the sun until I was completely dry.Then I jumped into the water a few times.Once I dived deep into the water and swam to the bottom of the sea.I swam with my eyes open, surrounded by green and dark surroundings.The raft casts a dark shadow.I got out of the water beside the raft, got on the raft, held my breath, jumped into the water again, snorkeled for a while, and then swam to the shore.I lay on the beach until I was completely dry, then I got up and went into the changing room of the bathhouse, took off my bathing suit, rinsed myself with fresh water, and dried myself off. I walked along the bay in the shade to the club, then turned up a shady street toward the Cafe Marinas.There was a band playing inside the café and it was hot so I sat outside on the patio to cool off and had a lemonade with shaved ice and a large whiskey and soda.I sat for a long time in front of the "Marinas", reading newspapers, watching passers-by, and listening to music. Then it started to get dark and I walked around the harbour, along the promenade, and finally walked back to the hotel for dinner. The "Round the Basque Country" bicycle race is underway, and the participants spend the night in San Sebastián.They eat at long tables on one side of the restaurant with coaches and agents and so on.They were both French and Belgian, engrossed in their meal, but in good spirits and having a good time.Sitting on the long table are two beautiful French girls, full of the unique charm of the suburban street of Montmartre in Paris.I don't know who brought them.The people at their table talked in slang, and there were many jokes that only they could understand. The person sitting at the other end of the long table made some jokes, and when the two girls asked them what they said, they fell silent.The car race will continue at five o'clock the next morning, running the last leg from San Sebastián to Bilbao.The cyclists drank copious amounts of wine and their skin was tanned by the sun.They only take the game seriously with each other.Competitions are often held between them, so they don't care much about who wins.Especially in foreign countries.Money is negotiable. The man with the lead of two minutes had a hot boil and it hurt badly.He sat on tiptoe in the chair.His neck was red and his blond hair was dry.Other cyclists joked about his hot boils.He tapped on the table with his fork. "Listen," he said, "tomorrow I'll hold my nose against the handlebars so only a pleasant breeze can touch my hot boil." A girl looked at him from across the table, and he grinned and blushed.They say the Spaniards don't know how to pedal. I was having coffee with a race broker from a big bike factory on the patio outside.He said that the game went on very comfortably, and it would have been worth watching if Botecchia hadn't forfeited the game when he arrived in Pamplona.The dust gets in the way, but the roads in Spain are better than those in France.He said that only long-distance bicycle races are considered sports in the world.Have I followed the "Around France" bike race?Only read about it in newspapers. "Around France" is the biggest sporting competition in the world.Following and organizing long-distance car races introduced him to France.Very few people know France.He spent three full seasons of spring, summer and autumn on the way with the riders of long-distance racing.Look at how many cars now follow the convoy from city to city in long distance races.France is a rich country, and sports are booming every year.It will become the most developed sports power in the world.Rely on the long-distance cycling race.Cycling and football.He knows France well.France, the country of sports.He's good at long-distance car racing.We drank a glass of brandy.But, having said that, returning to Paris would not be a bad idea after all.There is only one Barnum.That is to say, there is only one in the whole world.Paris is the most prosperous city in the world for sports.Do I know where the black person's is?How could I not know.Someday I will meet him there.Of course I will.We'll drink brandy together again.Of course we will.They started at a quarter to six in the morning.Shall I get up early to see you off?I will do my best.Want him to wake me up?Funny.I'll order the waiter to call me.He doesn't care, he is willing to call me.How can I bother him to call it himself.I'll order the waiter to call me.We said we'd see you tomorrow morning. When I awoke the next morning, the bike team and the cars following it had been on the road for three hours.I drank coffee in bed, read a few newspapers, then got dressed and took my bathing suit to the beach.Early in the morning, everything is fresh, cool, and moist.The nannies, in uniform or peasant dress, lead the children for walks under the trees.Spanish kids are beautiful.Some shoe shiners were sitting together under a tree talking to a soldier.Soldiers have only one arm.The tide is high, the breeze is blowing, and waves appear on the beach. I undress in a seaside changing room, step across the strip of beach, and burp into the water.I swam out and managed to get through the waves, but had to dive a few times.Later in the calm water, I rolled over and floated on the surface.While floating, all I saw was the sky and felt the rolling waves.I turned and swam to the wave, face down, and let a big wave carry me to the bank, then turned and swam out again, trying to stay in the trough between the two waves and not let the wave hit me.Tired of swimming in the trough, I turned around and swam to the raft.Sea water is very buoyant and cold.You have the feeling that you will never sink.I swam slowly, as if I had made a long swim with the high tide, and then propped myself up and climbed onto the raft, where I sat dripping on the wooden boards that were being heated by the sun.I looked around the bay, the old city, the clubs, the trees along the promenade, the big hotels with their white porches and gold letters.On the far right there is a green hill with an old castle, which almost seals off the port.The raft swayed with the ups and downs of the sea.On the other side of the narrow harbor that leads out to the sea is another high headland.I thought about crossing the bay, but I was worried about cramping my legs. I sat under the sun and watched the people bathing in the sea on the beach.After a while I stood up, gripping the edge of the raft with my toes, and as the raft tipped sideways under my weight, I plunged neatly into the depths, and Float up in the sea, drill out of the sea, shake off the salty seawater on your head, and then swim slowly and calmly to the shore. I got dressed, paid the locker fee, and walked back to the hotel.The motorsportsmen had dropped a few issues of Automobile, which I gathered together in the reading room and read in my easy chair in the sun, trying to get a quick grasp of French sporting life.I was sitting there when the porter came out with a blue envelope in his hand. "A telegram from you, sir." I inserted my fingers into the slightly stuck seal of the envelope, and opened it to read the message.This is transferred from Paris. Can I come to the Montana Hotel in Madrid I'm in a bad situation Brett I tipped the porter a little and read the telegram again.A postman came down the sidewalk.He turned into the hotel.He had a big beard and looked military.He walks out of the hotel.The porter followed him out. "Here is another telegram from you, sir." "Thank you," I said. I opened the telegram.This is transferred from Pamplona. Can I come to the Montana Hotel in Madrid I'm in a bad situation Brett The janitor stood by, perhaps waiting for a second tip. "What time does the train to Madrid leave?" "It leaves at nine o'clock this morning. There is a local train at eleven, and a 'Southern Express' at ten tonight." "Buy me a sleeper ticket on the Southern Express. Want to pay you now?" "As you please," he said. "I'll put it on the account." "Just do it." Oh, it looks like San Sebastian can't stay any longer.I think I vaguely expected this to happen.I saw the porter standing at the door. "Bring me a telegram, please." He brought it, and I took out my pen and wrote in print: Madame Montana Hotel Madame Ashley Arriving at Loving Jack by Southern Express This seems to solve the problem.That's it.Send a woman away with a man.Introduce her to another man and let her run away with him.Now it's time to bring her back.And write "Love you" on the telegram.That's the way it is.I went inside to have lunch. I didn't get much sleep that night on the Southern Express.The next morning, I ate breakfast in the dining car and looked at the mountainous and pine-forested landscape between Ávila and El Escorial.I saw the ancient buildings of El Escorial illuminated by the sun outside the window, dark, long and narrow, and bleak, but I didn't pay much attention to it.I saw the city of Madrid approaching me over the great plain, and across the sun-baked fields, above a low cliff in the distance, there was a dense white line of houses on the horizon. Madrid's Nord Station is the terminus of the line.All trains stop here.They no longer continue to drive to other countries.There are rented carriages and cars parked outside the station, and a row of hotel receptions.It's like a small country town.I hired a taxi and drove uphill, past gardens, past deserted palaces and unfinished churches on the edge of cliffs, and up to the hot, modern city towering on high hills.The car glides down a flat street until it reaches Puerta del Sol, then weaves through pedestrian traffic onto Via Sanaronimo.Stores have pulled down their awnings to keep out the heat.The sunny windows on the street had their shutters closed.The car stopped by the sidewalk.I saw the "Hotel Montana" sign hanging on the second floor.The driver of the car carried the travel bag in and put it in front of the elevator.I fiddled with the elevator switch for a while, but it still wouldn't work, so I went upstairs.On the second floor hung a carved copper sign: "Montana Hotel".I rang the doorbell, but no one came to the door.I pressed it again, and a maid opened the door with a tense face. "Is Mrs. Ashley there?" I asked. She stared at me blankly. "Is there an English woman living here?" She turned and called the people inside.A very fat woman came to the door.Her hair was grizzled, pomaded, and combed into small waves, hanging on both sides of her face.She is not tall, but very powerful. "Hello," I said. "Is there an English woman here? I want to see the English lady." "Good day. Yes, there is an English woman. You can see her, of course, if she wants to see you." "She wants to see me." "I asked this girl to ask her." "It's really hot." "Summer in Madrid is very hot." "But it's so cold in winter." "Yes, it's very cold in winter." Do I want to stay at the Hotel Montana myself? I haven't made up my mind about it yet, but I'd like someone to carry my bag upstairs from the ground floor so it won't be stolen.There has never been a case of theft at the Hotel Montana.In other inns, there is such a thing.Not here.No.The employees of this hotel have been strictly selected, and I am very satisfied after hearing it.Still, I'm welcome to get my travel bag up. The maid came in and said that the English woman wanted to see the English man, and she would see her right away. "Okay," I said. "You see. I'm right." "That's clear." I followed the maid along the dark corridor.At the end, she knocked on a door. "Hi," said Brett, "is that you, Jack?" "it's me." "Come in. Come in." I open the door.The maid closed the door behind me.Brett was lying on the bed.She was brushing her hair just now, and she still had a brush in her hand.The room was in such a mess that only those who were used to servants could make it. "Honey!" said Brett. I went to the bed and put my arms around her.She kissed me, and while she was kissing me, I could feel her thinking about something else.She trembled in my arms.I think she is much thinner. "Honey! I've had a rough time." "Tell me what's going on." "There's nothing to say. He just left yesterday. I want him to go." "Why didn't you keep him?" "I don't know. One shouldn't do such a thing. I don't think I've done him any wrong." "You probably couldn't have been better for him." "He couldn't be with anybody. I realized it all at once." "No." "Oh, hell!" she said, "don't talk about it. Let's never talk about it again." "Ok." "It shocks me that he should be ashamed of me. You know, he was ashamed of me for a while." "impossible." "Oh, that's right. I reckon someone made fun of me in the cafe. He told me to grow my hair, me, long. What would that look like?" "It's funny." "He said it would make me more womanly. I'd really look like a monster." "and after?" "Oh, he figured it out. He doesn't feel ashamed of me anymore." "And what do you mean by 'unfavorable situation'?" "I wasn't sure I'd be able to send him away, but I didn't have a dime and I couldn't go without him. You know, he was going to give me a lot of money. I told him I had plenty of money. He Know I'm lying. I can't take his money, you know." "right." "Oh, don't talk about that. There's something funny about it. Give me a cigarette." I ordered it for her. "He learned English when he was a waiter in Gibraltar." "Yes" "In the end, he wanted to marry me." "real?" "Of course. But I don't even want to marry Mike." "He may have thought that by doing so he would be Lord Ashley." "No. That's not the case. He really wants to marry me. He says I can't ditch him now. He's going to make sure I never ditch him. First, of course, I have to be more feminine. " "Then you should feel at ease now." "Yeah. I'm back on my feet. He put that nasty Cohn away." "Okay." "I would have lived with him, you know, but I find it's not good for him. We get on very well." "Except for your own attire." "Oh, he'll get used to that." She put out the cigarette. "You know, I'm thirty-four. I don't want to be a bad woman who spoils young people." "Yes." "I can't do that. You know, I feel good now. I feel safe." "That's good," She turned away.I thought she was looking for another cigarette.Then I found her crying.I can feel her crying.Trembling all over, twitching.She refused to look up.I put my arms around her. "Let's stop talking about it. Please, let's never talk about it." "Dear Brett." "I'm going back to Mike." I held her close and could feel her crying. "He's so sweet and so awesome. He's exactly what I'm asking for." She refused to look up.I stroke her hair.I can feel her trembling. "I don't want to be a bad woman," she said. "But, oh, Jack, let's never mention it." We left the Montana Hotel.The hostess of the hotel didn't want me to pay the bill.The bill has been paid. "Fine. Let it go," said Brett. "It doesn't matter now." We drove to the Palace Hotel, unpacked, booked sleeper tickets for the night train on the Southern Express, and went into the hotel bar for cocktails.We sat on stools in front of the bar cabinet and watched the bartender mix martinis with a large nickel-plated shaker. "It's queer, you have a wonderful sense of sophistication when you're in a big hotel bar," I said. "Today, only bartenders and jockeys are polite." "No matter how vulgar a hotel may be, the bar is always elegant." "Weird." "The bartender is always very personable." "You know," said Brett, "it's true. He's only nineteen, doesn't it?" We touched two wine glasses that stood side by side on the bar cabinet.The wine glass was cold, with water droplets forming on the outside.Outside the curtained windows was the scorching heat of Madrid. "I like an olive in my martini," I say to the bartender. "You are right, sir. Here we come." "thanks." "You know, I should have asked you first." The waiter moved to the other side of the bar so he couldn't hear our conversation.A martini glass rested on the wooden counter, and Brett leaned over to take a sip.She then raised her glass.After taking a sip, her hands stopped shaking and she could hold the glass steadily. "Good wine. Is this bar nice?" "Any bar is good." "You know, I didn't believe it at first. He was born in 1905. I was already at school in Paris at that time. Think about it." "Why do you want me to think about it?" "Don't be silly. Would you please have a glass of wine, lady?" "Give us two more martinis." "The same as before, sir?" "Those two glasses of wine were delicious." Brett smiled at him. "Thank you, ma'am." "Well, I wish you well," said Brett. "wish you health!" "You know," said Brett, "he'd only been with two women before me. He'd never been interested in anything but bullfighting." "He has a long life." "I don't understand. He only has eyes for me. He doesn't care about any festivals." "Oh, only you." "Yes. Only me." "I thought you would stop talking about this It's over." "What can I do?" "Don't talk about it, just lock it in your heart!" "I'm just putting it in a roundabout way. You know, I feel very comfortable, Jack." "As it should be," "You know, being determined not to be a bad woman makes me feel good." "yes." "This man's rule can more or less take the place of God." "Some people believe in God," I said. "A lot of miles." "God and I have never had a fate." "Shall we have two more martinis?" The waiter made two more martinis and poured them into two clean glasses. "Where are we going to eat?" I asked Brett.It was cool in the bar, it was hot outside from the window. "Right here?" Brett asked. "It's so boring in a hotel. Do you know a restaurant called Botin?" I asked the waiter. "Yes, sir. Shall I copy an address for you?" "Thank you." We ate upstairs at the Botin Hotel.This is one of the best restaurants in the world.我们吃烤乳猪，喝里奥哈酒。勃莱特没有吃多少。她向来吃不了许多。我饱餐了一顿，喝了三瓶里奥哈酒。 “你觉得怎么样，杰克？”勃莱特问。“我的上帝！你这顿饭吃了多少啊！”“我感觉很好。你要来道甜点心吗？”“哟，不要。”勃莱特抽着烟。 “你喜欢吃，是不是？”她说。 "Yes," I said. “我喜欢做很多事情。” “你喜欢做什么？” “哦，”我说，“我喜欢做很多事情，你要来道甜点心吗？” “你问过我一次了，”勃莱特说。 "say to me. “我问过了。我们再来一瓶里奥哈酒吧！” “这酒很好。” “你没有喝多少，”我说。 “我喝了不少。你没留神就是。” “我们再要两瓶吧，”我说。酒送来了。我在自己的杯子里倒了一点儿，然后给勃莱特倒了一杯，最后把我自己的杯子倒满。Let's clink glasses. “祝你健康！”勃莱特说。我干了一杯，又倒了一杯。勃莱特伸手按在我胳臂上。 “别喝醉了，杰克，”她说。“你用不着喝醉埃” "how do you know?" “别这样，”她说。“你的一切都会顺利的。” “我不想喝醉，”我说。“我只不过在喝一点儿葡萄酒。我喜欢喝。” “别喝醉了，”她说。“杰克，别喝醉酒。” “想坐车去兜凤吗？”我说。“想不想在城里兜一圈？” “好，”勃莱特说。“我还没有观光过马德里。我应该看看去。” “我把这喝了，”我说。 我们下楼，穿过楼下餐厅来到街上。一位侍者去雇车了。天气炎热、晴朗。大街的一头有一小片有树木草地的广场，出租汽车就停在那里。一辆汽车沿街开来，侍者的上半身探出在一边的车窗外。我给了他小费，吩咐司机朝什么地方开，然后上车在勃莱特身边坐下。汽车沿街开去。我靠后坐稳。勃莱特挪身紧靠着我。我们紧紧偎依着坐在一起。我用一条胳臂搂住她，她舒适地靠在我身上。天气酷热，阳光普照，房屋白得刺眼，我们拐上大马路。 “唉，杰克，”勃莱特说，“我们要能在一起该多好。”前面，有个穿着卡其制服的骑警在指挥交通。他举起警棍。车子突然慢下来，使勃莱特紧偎在我身上。 "Yeah," I said. “这么想想不也很好吗？”