Manuel slept like a log the whole of the following morning. Indeed, when he got up it was past three in the afternoon.
He knocked at Jesús’s door. La Fea was at the machine and La Salvadora was sitting in a tiny chair ripping some skirts; the tot was playing on the floor.
“Where’s Jesús?” asked Manuel.
“I guess you know better than we do,” retorted La Salvadora, her voice quivering with anger.
“I ... left him ...; then I met a friend....” Manuel forced himself to invent a lie. “Perhaps he’s at the shop,” he added.
“No. He’s not at the printing shop,” replied La Salvadora.
“I’ll go look for him.”
Manuel left the hostelry of Santa Casilda in shame. He walked toward the heart of the city and asked for his friend at the tavern1 on the Calle de Tetuán.
“He was here,” answered the waiter, “until the place closed. Then he went off as drunk as a lord, I don’t know where.”
Manuel returned to the house, and went back to[189] bed with the intention of going to the printing shop on the next day. But the following day he awoke late again. He was overcome by an inertia2 that seemed impossible to conquer.
He came upon La Salvadora in the corridor.
“Haven’t you gone to the shop today, either?” she asked.
“No.”
“Very well, then. Don’t trouble yourself ever to come back here again,” rasped the girl, furiously. “We don’t need any tramps. While we’re here slaving away, you fellows go out for a gay time. I’m telling you, now, don’t ever show up here again, and if you see Jesús, tell him the same for his sister and for me.”
Manuel shrugged3 his shoulders and left the house. It had been snowing all day. In the Puerta del Sol gangs of street-sweepers and hose men were clearing away the drifts; the filthy4 water ran along the gutters5.
Several times Manuel stepped into the Café de Lisboa, hoping to come upon Vidal. Not finding him there he had a bite at a tavern, after which he went for a stroll through the streets. It got dark very early. Madrid, enveloped6 in snow, was deserted7. The Plaza8 de Oriente looked unreal, somewhat like a scene set upon a stage. The monarchs9 of stone wore white cloaks. The statue in the centre of the square stood out nobly against the sky of grey. From the Viaduct there was a view of white expanses. Toward Madrid lay a heap of yellowish structures and black roofs, of towers jutting[190] into the milky10 heavens, reddened by a luminous11 irradiation.
Manuel returned to the house in low spirits; he threw himself into bed.
“Tomorrow I’m going back to the shop,” he said to himself. But on the morrow he did not go back. He rose very early with that intention, and was actually about to enter the printery when the idea occurred to him that the boss might raise a rumpus, so he turned away. “If not here, then I’ll find work elsewhere,” he thought, and he turned his steps back in the direction of the Puerta del Sol, proceeding12 thence to the Plaza de Oriente, through the Calle de Bailén, and the Calle de Ferraz to the Paseo de Rosales. The avenue was silent and deserted.
From this point could be viewed the entire landscape white under the snow, the dark groves14 of the Casa de Campo, and the round hills bristling15 with black pine trees. The pallid16 sun hovered17 in a leaden sky. Near the horizon, in the direction of Villaverde, shone a strip of clear blue sky in a pink mist. Profound silence everywhere. Only the strident whistle of the locomotives and the hammering in the workshops of the Estación del Norte disturbed that calm. Not a footfall resounded18 on the pavement.
The houses along the avenue displayed snowy adornments upon balustrade and coping; the trees seemed to flatten19 under that white mantle20.
That afternoon Manuel returned toward the[191] printing-shop, ventured inside and asked the pressman for Jesús.
“He got a fierce call-down from the boss,” was the answer.
“Did he fire him?”
“Maybe not! Go up now and take your medicine.”
Manuel, about to go up, paused.
“Has Jesús gone already?”
“Yes. He must be in the corner tavern.”
And he really was. He sat before a table drinking a glass of whisky. There was a sad, doleful expression upon his face. He was a prey21 to his sombre thoughts.
“What are you doing?” asked Manuel.
“Oh, it’s you, is it?”
“Yes. Did the old cripple discharge you?”
“Yes.”
“Were you thinking of anything?”
“Pse!... There’s nothing doing, anyway. Come on, let’s have a glass or two.”
“No, not for me.”
“You’ll do as you’re told. I’ve got only forty céntimos, which is as good as nothing. Hey, waiter! A couple of glasses.”
They drank and then walked off in the direction of the Santa Casilda hostelry. It was still snowing. Jesús, his cheeks hectic22, coughed desperately23.
“I warn you: Salvadora, that little kid, will raise holy hell,” said Manuel. “Such a temper she has!”
“Well, what do they want? To have us saving[192] up money all our lives? I’m glad that the kid is in the house, for she can take care of La Fea, who is the unhappier of the two.... And you,—how much have you got left from your pay?” asked the compositor of Manuel.
“Me? Not even a button.”
At this reply Jesús was so deeply moved that he seized his companion by the arm and assured him in the most ardent24 outbursts that he esteemed25 him and loved him as a brother.
“And may I be damned!” he concluded, “if I’m not willing to do anything under the sun for you. For this telling me that you haven’t even a button is worth more to me than all the deeds of the hero of Cascorro.”[4]
Manuel, affected26 by these words, asseverated27 in a husky voice that though he was a vagabond and a good-for-nothing, he was ready to perform any sacrifice for so staunch a friend.
In order to celebrate such tender protestations of amity28, they both lurched into a tavern on the Calle de Barrionuevo and gulped29 down a few more glasses of whisky.
They reached the Santa Casilda hostelry dead drunk. The house janitor30 came out to meet them, demanding of each the rent for his room. Jesús answered jestingly that they gave him no money because they had none to give. He rejoined that either they paid or they could take to the street,[193] whereupon the compositor dared him to throw them out.
The man’s wife, who might have been a soldier, took them both by the shoulder and shoved them into the street.
“Lord, oh Lord! The weaker sex!” mumbled31 Jesús. “That’s what they call the weaker sex!... And they can throw a fellow out of the house.... And where’s a guy going to get two duros?... Well, what do you say to that, Manuel? Hey? The weaker sex.... How do you like such a figurative manner of speech?... It’s we who are the weaker, and they simply abuse their strength.”
They began to stagger along the street; neither felt the cold.
From time to time Jesús would pause and deliver a diatribe32; a man would laugh as they passed by, or a youngster, from some doorway33, would call after them and send a snowball in their direction.
“I wonder whom they’re laughing at?” thought Manuel.
The Ronda was silent, white, cut by a dark stream of water left by the carts. The large flakes34 came falling down, interweaving in their descent; they danced in the gusts35 of wind like white butterflies. During the intervals36 of calm they would glide37 slowly, softly through the greyish atmosphere, like the gentle down from the neck of a swan.
Afar, in the mist, lay the white landscape of the suburbs, the gently curving slopes, the houses and the cemeteries38 of the Campo de San Isidro. Against this background everything stood out more distinct[194] than ordinarily: the roofs, the mudwalls, the trees, the lanterns thickly hooded39 in snow.
In this whitish ambient the black smoke belched41 forth42 by the chimneys spread through the air like a threat.
“The weaker sex. Hey, Manuel?” continued Jesús, harping43 upon his fixed44 idea. “And yet they can show a fellow to the door.... It’s as if they said the weak snow.... Because you tread upon it.... Isn’t that so?... But the snow makes you cold.... And then who’s the weaker, you or the snow?... You, because you catch cold. That’s all a fellow does in this world,—catch cold.... Everything is cold, understand?... Everything.... Like the snow.... Do you see how white it is, eh? It looks so good, so affectionate ... the weaker sex.... Well, touch it, and you freeze.”
They squandered45 their last céntimos on another glass of whisky, and from that moment they were no longer conscious of their doings.
The following morning they awoke frozen through and through, in a shed of the Cattle Market situated46 near the Paseo de los Pontones.
Jesús was coughing horribly.
“You stay here,” said Manuel to him. “I’m going to see whether I can pick up something to eat.”
He went out to the Ronda. The snow had ceased. Several gamins were amusing themselves by throwing snowballs at one another. He went up the Calle del águila; the cobbler’s was closed. It[195] then occurred to Manuel to hunt out Jacob; he turned toward the Viaduct and was walking along absent-mindedly when he felt some one grab him by the shoulders and cry:
“Stay thy hand, Abraham. Where are you bound?”
It was the Snake-Man, the illustrious Don Alonso.
Manuel told him what straits he and Jesús were in.
“Don’t give up; better times are coming,” mumbled the Snake-Man. “Have you any place to go to?”
“A shed.”
“Good. Let’s go there. I’ve got a peseta. That’s enough to get the three of us a bite.”
They went into a chop house on the Calle del águila where, for two reales, they received a pot of stew47; they bought bread and then the pair made quickly for the shed. They ate, laid aside something for the night, and after their meal Don Alonso tore loose several pickets49 from a fence and succeeded in starting a fire inside the shed.
That afternoon it began to rain in torrents50; the Snake-Man considered it his duty to enliven the company, so he told one tale after the other, always commencing with his eternal refrain of “Once in America....”
“Once in America”—(and this is the least unlikely tale of all he told)—“we were sailing down the Mississippi on a steamer. And let me tell you, those steamboats rock so little that you can[196] play billiards51 on them. Well, we were sailing along and we reach a certain town. The boat stops and we see a mob of people on the wharf52 of that village. We draw nearer and we behold53 that they’re all Indians, with the exception of a few guards and Yankee soldiers.
“I” (and Don Alonso added this information proudly) “who was the director, said to my musicians, ‘We must start a lively tune,’ and right away, Boom! Boom! Tra, la, la!... You can’t imagine the shouts and the shrieks54 and the croaking55 of that crowd.
“When the band had stopped playing, a big fat Indian squaw with her head full of cock feathers steps up to me and begins to make ceremonial greetings. I asked one of the Yankees, ‘Who is this lady?’ ‘She’s the queen,’ he said, ‘and she wants a little more music.’ I saluted56 the queen. Most excellent lady! (And I made an elegant series of Versaillesque bows, setting one foot back.) I said to the members of the band, ‘Boys, a little more music for her Majesty57.’ They started up again, and the queen, highly pleased, saluted me with her hand on her heart. I did the same. Most excellent lady!
“We put up our portable circus in a few hours and I withdrew to ponder over the programme. I was the director. ‘We’ll have to give The Mounted Indian,’ I said to myself. Even though it’s a discredited58 number in the cities, they can’t know it here. Then I’ll exhibit my ecuyères, acrobats59, equilibrists, pantomimists and, as a finale, the clowns, who will be[197] the climax60 of the show. The fellow who was to play The Mounted Indian I tipped off and said, ‘See here, make yourself up to look as much like our audience as possible.’ ‘Don’t worry about that, director,’ he answered. Boys! It was a sensational61 success. When the ‘Indian’ appeared, what a racket of applause!”
Don Alonso mimed62 the number; he crouched63, imitating the movements of one about to mount a horse; he sank his head in his chest, staring at a fixed point and imitated the whirling of a lasso above his head.
“The Mounted Indian,” continued Don Alonso, “won the applause of the other Indians. I’m positive that not one of them knew how to ride a horse. Then there was an acrobatic number, followed by a variety of others, until the time for the clowns came around. ‘Here’s where there’s pandemonium,’ I thought to myself. And surely enough, all they had to do was appear when a wild tumult64 broke loose. ‘They’re having a wonderful time,’ I said to myself, when in comes a boy. ‘Director, Se?or Director!’ ‘What’s the trouble?’ ‘The whole audience is leaving.’ ‘Leaving?’ And indeed, they were. The Indians had become scared at sight of the clowns, and imagined that they were evil spirits come there to spoil the performance for them. I jump into the ring, and send the clowns stumbling off. Then, to efface65 the bad impression, I performed several sleight-of-hand tricks. When I began to belch40 ribbons of flame from my mouth, Lord, what a triumph! The whole house was astounded66.[198] But when I palmed a couple of rings and then drew out of my coat pocket a fish-bowl filled with live fishes, I received the greatest ovation67 of my career.”
Don Alonso was silent. Jesús and Manuel prepared to go to sleep, stretched out on the ground, huddled68 into a corner. The rain came down in bucketfuls; the water drummed loudly upon the roof of the shed; the wind whistled and moaned from afar.
It began to thunder, and it was for all the world as if some train were crashing headlong down a metal slope, so continuous, so violent was the thundering.
“Bah! Tempests on land!” sniffed70 Don Alonso. “Cheap stuff! Tempests on land are mere71 imitations. At sea,—that’s where you want to witness a tempest, at sea! when the waves come sweeping72 over the masts.... Even on the lakes. On Lake Erie and Lake Michigan I’ve been through tremendous storms, with waves as high as houses. But I must admit that the wind goes down almost at once and in a little while the water is as smooth as the pond of the Retiro. Why, once yonder in America....”
But Manuel and Jesús, weary of American tales, pretended to be fast asleep and the former Snake-Man sank into disconsolate73 silence, thinking of the days when he palmed the Indians’ rings and drew forth fish-bowls.
They could not sleep; several times they had to[199] get up and change their places, for the water leaked through the roof.
On the following morning, when they left their hole, it was no longer raining. The snow had been melted completely. The Cattle Market was transformed into a swamp; the pavement of the Ronda, into a sea of mud; the houses and the trees dripped water; everything was black, miry, abandoned; only a few wandering, famished74, mud-stained dogs were sniffing75 about in the heaps of refuse.
Manuel pawned76 his cape13 and on the advice of Jesús protected his chest with several layers of newspaper. For his cape he was allowed ten reales at a pawnbroker’s, and the three went off to eat at the Shelter of the Monta?a del Príncipe Pío.
Manuel and Jesús, accompanied by Don Alonso, went into two printing shops and inquired after work, but there was none. At night they went back to the shelter for supper. Don Alonso suggested that they go to the beggars’ Depósito. Thither77 the three wended their way; it was dusk; before the doors of the Depósito there was a long row of tattered78 ragamuffins, waiting for them to open; Jesús and Manuel were opposed to going in.
They walked through the little wood near the Monta?a barracks; some soldiers and prostitutes were chatting and smoking in a group. They went along the Calle de Ferraz, then along Bailén; they crossed the Viaduct, and going through the Calle de Toledo, reached the Paseo de los Pontones.
The corner of the shed where they had spent the[200] previous night was now occupied by a crew of young vagabonds.
They resumed their trudging79 through the mud; it began to rain anew. Manuel proposed that they go to La Blasa’s tavern, and by the staircase of the Paseo Imperial they descended80 to the quarters of Las Injurias. The tavern was closed. They walked down a lane. Their feet sank into mud and pools of water. They noticed a hovel with an open door; they went inside. The Snake-Man struck a match. The place had two rooms, each a couple of metres square. The walls of the dingy81 dens82 oozed83 dampness and slime; the floor, of tamped84 earth, was riddled85 with the constant dripping and covered with puddles86. The kitchen was a cess-pool of pestilence87; in the centre rose a mound88 of refuse and excrement89; in the corners, dead, desiccated cockroaches90.
The next morning they left the house. It was a damp, dreary91 day; afar, the fields lay wrapped in mist. Las Injurias district was depopulated; its denizens92 were on their way through the muddy lanes to Madrid, on the hunt. Some ascended93 to the Paseo Imperial, others trooped down though the Arroyo94 de Embajadores.
They were a repulsive95 rout96; some, ragpickers; others, mendicants; still others, starvelings; almost all of them of nauseating98 mien99. Worse in appearance than the men were the women,—filthy, dishevelled, tattered. This was human refuse, enfolded in rags, swollen100 with cold and dankness, vomited101 up by this pest-ridden quarter. Here was a[201] medley102 of skin-diseases, marks left by all the ailments103 to which the flesh is heir, the jaundiced hue104 of tertian fever, the contracted eyelash,—all the various stigmata of illness and poverty.
“If the rich could only see this, eh?” asked Don Alonso.
“Bah! They’d do nothing,” muttered Jesús.
“Why not?”
“Because they wouldn’t. If you were to deprive the rich man of the satisfaction of knowing that while he sleeps another is freezing, and that while he eats another is dying of hunger, you would deprive him of half his pleasure and good fortune.”
“Do you really believe that?” asked Don Alonso, staring in astonishment105 at Jesús.
“I certainly do. What’s more,—why should we bother with what they may think? They don’t give themselves any concern over us. At this hour they must be sleeping in their clean, soft beds, so peacefully, while we....”
The Snake-Man made a gesture of displeasure; he was vexed106 that any one should speak ill of the rich.
The sun came out: a disk of red over the black earth. Then carts began to arrive at the Gas Work’s dumping grounds and to dump rubbish and refuse. Here and there in the doorways107 of the hovels that filled the hollow appeared a woman with a cigar in her mouth.
One night the watchman of Las Injurias discovered the three men in the abandoned shanty108 and ejected them.
The following days, Manuel and Jesús—the[202] showman had disappeared—decided to go to the Asilo de las Delicias for the night. Neither was at all bent109 upon finding work. It was already almost a month since they had taken to this tramp’s existence, and between one day at a barracks and the next in a monastery110 or a shelter, they managed to keep going.
The first time that Jesús and Manuel slept in the Asilo de las Delicias was a March day.
When they reached the Asilo it had not yet opened. They passed their wait strolling along the old Yeseros road. They wandered into the fields nearby, where they saw wretched shacks111 in the doorways of which some men were playing at chito or tejo, while bands of ragged112 children swarmed113 about.
These by-roads were gloomy, bleak114, desolate115 spots,—the abode116 of ruins, as if a city had been reared there and been annihilated117 by a cataclysm118. On all sides were heaps of refuse and débris, gullies filled with rubbish; here and there a broken stone chimney, a shattered lime-kiln. Only at rare intervals might one catch a glimpse of a garden with its draw-well; in the distance, on the hills that bounded the horizon, rose the dim suburbs and scattered119 houses. It was a disquieting120 vicinity; behind the hillock one came suddenly upon evil-looking vagabonds in groups of three or four.
Through a little gorge121 nearby flowed the Abro?igal, a rivulet122; Manuel and Jesús followed it until they reached a stone bridge called Tres Ojos.
[203]
They returned at night. The shelter was already open. It was on the right hand side of the Yeseros road, in the vicinity of a number of abandoned cemeteries. Its pointed123 roof, its galleries and wooden staircases, lent it the appearance of a Swiss chalet. On the balcony was a signboard attached to the balustrade, reading: “Asilo Municipal del Sur.” A lantern with a red glass shed its gory124 light upon the deserted fields.
Manuel and Jesús went down several steps; at a counter a clerk who was scribbling125 away in a big book asked them their names; they replied and then entered the institution. The section for men consisted of two large rooms lit by gas-burners, separated by a partition wall; each had wooden pillars and high, tiny windows. Jesús and Manuel crossed the first room and went into the second, where there were several men stretched out here and there upon the beds. They, too, lay down and chatted for a while....
As they spoke126, a number of beggars kept coming in, taking possession of the beds that were placed in the middle of the room and near the pillars. These new arrivals dropped on to the floor their coats, their patched capes127, their filthy undershirts,—a heap of tatters,—at the same time depositing tin cans filled with cigarette ends, pots and baskets.
Almost all the patrons of the place went into the second room.
“There isn’t such a draught128 in this room,” said an old beggar who was preparing to lie down near Manuel.
[204]
Several ragamuffins between fifteen and twenty years of age burst into the place, took possession of a corner and settled down to a game of cané.
“You bunch of rascals129!” cried the old beggar near Manuel. “You had to choose this place to come and gamble in. Damn it!”
Manuel turned toward the fuming133 old man. He was a diminutive134 creature, with a sparse135, greyish beard; he had a pair of eyes that looked like scars and black spectacles that reached to the middle of his forehead. He wore a patched, grimy coat; a flat, woolen136 cap, on top of which sat a derby with a greasy137 brim. As he had entered, he had disburdened himself of a canvas bag which he dropped to the floor.
“It’s these whippersnappers that get us in wrong,” explained the old man. “Last year they robbed the shelter telephone and stole a piece of lead from a water-pipe.”
Manuel swept the room with his glance. Near him, a tall old fellow with a white beard and the features of an apostle, leaned his shoulder against one of the pillars, immersed in his thoughts; he wore a smock, a muffler and a cap. In the corner occupied by the impudent138, blustering139 ragamuffins rose the silhouette140 of a man garbed141 in black,—the type[205] of a retired142 official. On his knees reposed143 the head of a slumbering144 boy of five or six.
All the rest were of bestial145 appearance; beggars that looked like highwaymen; maimed and crippled who roamed the streets exhibiting their deformities; unemployed146 labourers, now inured147 to idleness, amongst whom was an occasional specimen148 of a ruined gentleman, with straggling beard and greasy locks, whose bearing and apparel,—collar, cravat149 and cuffs150, filthy as they might be,—still recalled a certain distinction,—a pallid reflection of the splendour that once had been.
The air in the room very soon grew hot, and the atmosphere, saturated151 with the odour of tobacco and poverty, became nauseating.
Manuel lay back in his cot and listened to the conversation that had sprung up between Jesús and the old man with the black spectacles. The fellow was an inveterate152 beggar, a connoisseur153 in all the arts of exploiting official charity.
Despite his continuous wanderings hither and thither, he had never been more than five or six leagues away from Madrid.
“Once upon a time this shelter was a good place,” he explained to Jesús. “There was a stove; each cot had its woollen blanket, and in the morning everybody got a good plate of soup.”
“Yes, water soup,” sneered154 another beggar, a young, thin, long-haired lad whose cheeks were browned by the sun.
“Even so. It warmed a fellow’s innards.”
The man of refinement155, doubtless disgusted to[206] find himself amid this rout of ragamuffins, took the sleeping child in his arms and drew near to the place occupied by Manuel and Jesús. He joined the conversation and began to relate his tribulations156. Sad as his story was, there was yet something comical about it.
He came from a provincial157 capital, having left a modest position and believed in the words of the district deputy, who promised him a situation in the offices of the Ministry158. For two months he tagged at the heels of the deputy; at the end of this time he found himself face to face with the direst poverty, absolutely without influence or recourse. In the meantime he was writing to his wife, inspiring her with hope.
The previous day he had been thrown out of his boarding-house and after having tramped over half of Madrid without finding a way to earn a peseta, had gone to the authorities and asked for an officer to conduct him and his child to some shelter. “I take only beggars to the shelter,” was the guard’s reply. “I’m going out begging,” answered the man humbly159, “so you can take me.” “No,” was the officer’s answer. “First you must actually beg, then I’ll arrest you.”
The officer was intractable. At this moment a man happened to be going by. The father approached him with his child, brought his hand to his hat, but the request could not issue from his lips. It was then that the guard advised him to go to the Asilo de las Delicias.
“If they’d arrested you, you’d have gained nothing[207] by it,” said the fellow with the black spectacles. “They’d have taken you off to the Cerro del Pimiento, and you’d have spent the livelong day there without so much as a crumb160.”
“And then what would they have done with me?” asked the gentleman of refinement.
“Expel you from Madrid.”
“But aren’t there places here where a person can spend the night?” asked Jesús.
“A raft of them,” replied the old man. “Everywhere you go. Especially now, when it’s so cold in the winter.”
“I’ve lived,” chimed in the young beggar, “for more than half a year in Vaciamadrid,—an almost depopulated town. A comrade of mine and myself found a house that was closed, and we installed ourselves in it. For a few weeks we lived swimmingly. At night we’d go to the Arganda station; we’d bore a hole with an auger161 in a cask of wine, fill up our wine-bag and then stuff the hole with pitch.”
“The civil guard laid siege to us and we were forced to escape through the windows. I’ll be damned if I wasn’t already tired of the joint163. I like to roam along the road, one day here, another there. That’s the way a fellow meets people who know a thing or two, and picks up an education....”
“Have you done much tramping hereabouts?”
“All my life. I can’t use up more than one pair of sandals per town. If I stay very long in the same place I grow so uneasy that I just have to get[208] a move on. Ah! The country! There’s nothing like it. You eat where you can. In winter it’s tough. But summer time! You make your thyme bed underneath164 a tree and have a magnificent sleep, better than the king himself. When the cold comes around, then, like the swallows, off you fly to wherever it’s nice and warm.”
The old man with the black spectacles, scornful of what the young vagabond had said, informed Jesús as to the nooks to be found in the outlying districts.
“Now let me tell you where I go when it’s fine weather. There’s a cemetery165 near the third Depósito. There are some houses there that we’ll go to this spring.”
The conclusion of the conversation reached Manuel in but a confused form, as he had fallen asleep. At midnight he was awakened166 by some voices. In the corner to which the ragamuffins had repaired two boys were rolling over the floor in a hand to hand struggle.
“I’ll pay you,” muttered one between his teeth.
“Let go. You’re choking me.”
The old mendicant97, who had been awakened, got up in a fury and, seizing his stick, let it fall hard upon the shoulder of one of the boys. The youth who was struck down rose up, roaring with anger.
They rushed for each other, exchanged several blows and then both fell headlong to the floor.
[209]
“These young tramps are getting us in wrong,” exclaimed the old man.
A guard re-established order and expelled the trouble-makers. The denizens of the shelter were again calm and nothing more was heard save the muffled168 or sibilant snoring of the sleepers169....
The next morning, even before daybreak, when the doors of the Asilo were opened, every one who had spent the night there left the place and had in a moment disappeared into the outskirts170.
Manuel and Jesús chose the Calle de Mendez Alvaro. On the platforms of the Estación del Mediodía the electric arcs shone like globes of light in the gloomy atmosphere of the night.
From the chimneys of the roundhouse rose dense171 pillars of white smoke; the red and green pupils of the signal lamps winked172 confidentially173 from their lofty poles; the straining boilers174 of the locomotives sent forth most horrible roars.
On both sides along the perspective of the thoroughfare quivered the pale lights of the distant street lamps. Yonder in the country, through the air that was as murky175 and yellowish as ground glass, could be made out upon the colourless fields, low cottages, black picket48 fences, high gnarled telegraph poles, distant, obscure embankments that formed the railroad bed. A few ramshackle taverns176, lighted by a languidly burning oil lamp, were open.... With the opaque177 glow of dawn appeared, to the right, the wide, leaden roof of the Estación del Mediodía, glistening178 with dew; opposite,[210] the pile of the General Hospital, jaundice-hued; to the left, the barren fields, the indistinct brown vegetable patches that rose until they blended, with the undulating hills of the horizon under the grey, humid sky, into the vast desolation of the Madrilenian suburbs....
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tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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inertia
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| adj.惰性，惯性，懒惰，迟钝 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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gutters
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| （路边）排水沟( gutter的名词复数 )； 阴沟； （屋顶的）天沟； 贫贱的境地 | |
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6
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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8
plaza
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| n.广场，市场 | |
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9
monarchs
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| 君主，帝王( monarch的名词复数 ) | |
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10
milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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11
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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12
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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13
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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14
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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15
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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16
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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17
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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18
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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19
flatten
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| v.把．．．弄平，使倒伏；使(漆等)失去光泽 | |
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20
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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21
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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22
hectic
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| adj.肺病的；消耗热的；发热的；闹哄哄的 | |
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23
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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24
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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25
esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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26
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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27
asseverated
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| v.郑重声明，断言( asseverate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28
amity
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| n.友好关系 | |
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29
gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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30
janitor
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| n.看门人，管门人 | |
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31
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32
diatribe
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| n.抨击，抨击性演说 | |
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33
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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34
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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35
gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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36
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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37
glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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38
cemeteries
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| n.（非教堂的）墓地，公墓( cemetery的名词复数 ) | |
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39
hooded
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| adj.戴头巾的；有罩盖的；颈部因肋骨运动而膨胀的 | |
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40
belch
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| v.打嗝，喷出 | |
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41
belched
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| v.打嗝( belch的过去式和过去分词 )；喷出，吐出；打（嗝）；嗳（气） | |
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42
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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43
harping
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| n.反复述说 | |
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44
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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45
squandered
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| v.（指钱，财产等）浪费，乱花( squander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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47
stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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48
picket
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| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
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49
pickets
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| 罢工纠察员( picket的名词复数 ) | |
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50
torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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51
billiards
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| n.台球 | |
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52
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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53
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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54
shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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55
croaking
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的现在分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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56
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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57
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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58
discredited
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| 不足信的，不名誉的 | |
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59
acrobats
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| n.杂技演员( acrobat的名词复数 )；立场观点善变的人，主张、政见等变化无常的人 | |
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60
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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61
sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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62
mimed
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| v.指手画脚地表演，用哑剧的形式表演( mime的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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65
efface
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| v.擦掉，抹去 | |
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66
astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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67
ovation
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| n.欢呼，热烈欢迎，热烈鼓掌 | |
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68
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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69
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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70
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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71
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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72
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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73
disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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74
famished
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| adj.饥饿的 | |
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75
sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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76
pawned
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| v.典当，抵押( pawn的过去式和过去分词 )；以（某事物）担保 | |
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77
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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78
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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79
trudging
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的现在分词形式） | |
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80
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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81
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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82
dens
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| n.牙齿，齿状部分；兽窝( den的名词复数 )；窝点；休息室；书斋 | |
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83
oozed
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的过去式和过去分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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84
tamped
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| v.捣固( tamp的过去式和过去分词 )；填充；（用炮泥）封炮眼口；夯实 | |
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85
riddled
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| adj.布满的；充斥的；泛滥的v.解谜，出谜题(riddle的过去分词形式) | |
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86
puddles
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| n.水坑， （尤指道路上的）雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
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87
pestilence
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| n.瘟疫 | |
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88
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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89
excrement
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| n.排泄物，粪便 | |
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90
cockroaches
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| n.蟑螂( cockroach的名词复数 ) | |
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91
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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92
denizens
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| n.居民，住户( denizen的名词复数 ) | |
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93
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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94
arroyo
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| n.干涸的河床，小河 | |
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95
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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96
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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97
mendicant
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| n.乞丐；adj.行乞的 | |
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98
nauseating
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| adj.令人恶心的，使人厌恶的v.使恶心，作呕( nauseate的现在分词 ) | |
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99
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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100
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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101
vomited
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102
medley
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| n.混合 | |
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103
ailments
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| 疾病（尤指慢性病），不适( ailment的名词复数 ) | |
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104
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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105
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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106
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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107
doorways
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| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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108
shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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109
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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110
monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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111
shacks
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| n.窝棚，简陋的小屋( shack的名词复数 ) | |
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112
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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113
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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114
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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115
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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116
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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117
annihilated
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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118
cataclysm
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| n.洪水，剧变，大灾难 | |
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119
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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120
disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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121
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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122
rivulet
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| n.小溪，小河 | |
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123
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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124
gory
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| adj.流血的；残酷的 | |
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125
scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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126
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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capes
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| 碎谷； 斗篷( cape的名词复数 )； 披肩； 海角； 岬 | |
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128
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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129
rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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130
bawling
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的现在分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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131
jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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132
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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133
fuming
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| 愤怒( fume的现在分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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134
diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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135
sparse
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| adj.稀疏的，稀稀落落的，薄的 | |
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136
woolen
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| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
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137
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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138
impudent
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| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
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139
blustering
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| adj.狂风大作的，狂暴的v.外强中干的威吓( bluster的现在分词 )；咆哮；（风）呼啸；狂吹 | |
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140
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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141
garbed
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| v.（尤指某类人穿的特定）服装，衣服，制服( garb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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142
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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143
reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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144
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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bestial
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| adj.残忍的；野蛮的 | |
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unemployed
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| adj.失业的，没有工作的；未动用的，闲置的 | |
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inured
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| adj.坚强的，习惯的 | |
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148
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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149
cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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150
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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151
saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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152
inveterate
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| adj.积习已深的，根深蒂固的 | |
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153
connoisseur
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| n.鉴赏家，行家，内行 | |
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154
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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156
tribulations
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| n.苦难( tribulation的名词复数 )；艰难；苦难的缘由；痛苦 | |
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157
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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158
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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159
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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160
crumb
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| n.饼屑，面包屑，小量 | |
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161
auger
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| n.螺丝钻，钻孔机 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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165
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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166
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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167
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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168
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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169
sleepers
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| n.卧铺（通常以复数形式出现）；卧车( sleeper的名词复数 )；轨枕；睡觉（呈某种状态）的人；小耳环 | |
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170
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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171
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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172
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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173
confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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174
boilers
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| 锅炉，烧水器，水壶( boiler的名词复数 ) | |
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175
murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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176
taverns
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| n.小旅馆，客栈，酒馆( tavern的名词复数 ) | |
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177
opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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178
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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