I have no fear of men." This was quite true, he
had not, but his eye quailed and drooped before the steady gaze of Mrs.
Nitschkan.
"Come, come," said Gallito peremptorily, "I am glad to see you all each
evening about my fireside, but I will have no arguing nor quarreling,
understand that. A man's house is his castle."
Jose diplomatically dropped the subject, which did not mean that he had
abandoned his plan for one moment. He merely waited a more convenient
season. His strongest arguments were that it was not an infrequent
occurrence for Gallito to entertain guests of his own nationality in his
mountain cabin. "And my hair!" cried Jose pathetically. "It would be a
crown of glory to Nitschkan if she had it; but it is a shame to me, a
man, to have to wear it so long. No one in the camp could possibly know
that I have ears."
Gallito at first absolutely refused to listen to him, but so adroitly
did Jose bring up the subject every evening that he began to make some
impression on his stern jailer. He was careful, though, not to mention
his hopes until near midnight, when Gallito's normally harsh mood was
greatly softened not only by winning the final game, which Jose
invariably permitted now, but also by the mellowing influence of his
bland, old cognac. Then Gallito would embark on an argument, determined
to convince Jose of the wild folly of his desire.
Their debate continued for several evenings and finally ended, as Jose
meant it should, in Gallito giving a reluctant consent, under certain
conditions which he insisted should be rigidly carried out.
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