Not a carriage could be seen. Curses!
Seated on one of the stone benches, the master finally took out the
little notebook that he always carried with him. He sketched the figures
of the children as they ran around the fountain. That was one way to
kill time. One after the other he sketched all the girls, then he caught
them in several groups, but at last they disappeared behind the palace,
going down toward the Cano Gordo. Renovales, having nothing to distract
him, left his seat and walked about, stamping noisily. His feet were
like ice, this waiting in the cold was putting him in a terrible mood.
Then he went and sat down on another bench near the servant in black,
who had the two dogs at his knees. They were sitting on their hind paws,
resting with as much dignity as real people, watching that gentleman
with their gray eyes that winked intelligently, as he looked at them
attentively and then moved his pencil on the book that rested on his
knee. The painter sketched the two dogs in different postures, giving
himself up to the work with such interest that he quite forgot his
purpose in coming there. Oh, what splendid creatures! Renovales loved
animals in which beauty was united with strength. If he had lived alone
and could have consulted his own tastes, he would have converted his
house into a menagerie.
The servant went away with his dogs and the artist once more was left
alone. Several couples passed slowly, arm in arm, and disappeared behind
the palace toward the gardens below.
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