San Giacinto saw that
there was something wrong and said nothing, but lighted a black
cigar and smoked thoughtfully.
"You look as though you had been up all night," he remarked after
a long pause.
Giovanni did not answer. His eyes did not look up from the red
blotting-paper in the open portfolio before him. As he looked down
San Giacinto almost believed he was asleep, and shook the table a
little to see whether his cousin would notice it. Instantly
Giovanni laid his hand upon the writing book, to steady it before
him. But still he did not look up.
"You seem to be interested," said San Giacinto, with a smile, and
he blew a cloud of smoke into the air.
Giovanni was indeed completely absorbed in his studies, and only
nodded his head in answer. After a few minutes more he rose and
took the portfolio to a dingy mirror that stood over the chimney-
piece of the lodging, and held up the sheet of red blotting-paper
before the reflecting surface. Apparently not satisfied with this,
he brought the lamp and set it upon the shelf, and then repeated
the process.
"You are an infernal scoundrel," he said in a low voice, that
trembled with wrath, as he turned and faced San Giacinto.
"What do you mean?" inquired the latter with a calmness that would
have staggered a less angry man.
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