“Santita!” exclaimed Hipólito with a nervous smile as he played a few notes with his left hand on the keyboard. “You really don't know what la Gaditana wants? None of the other girls or Pepa or Elvira has talked to you about this? … I thought you knew, because you seemed to go along with it, and I bet that's what the girls think, too. You know since when? Since la Gaditana started teaching you to dance danzón and wouldn't let anyone else show you a single step … didn't you notice that at the time? Didn't you start to suspect something?”

“What on earth was I supposed to suspect? I still don't know what in hell you are talking about! … Don't laugh, Hipo! You think I'm lying? What's going on?”

“She's in love with you, Santita. It's love, and now you're going to think I'm the crazy one, but it is. Mixed up, twisted, indecent, whatever you want to call it, but it's love. Look, not all people are born the same. Just look at me carefully, if you haven't already, and you'll see I'm as ugly as sin, but Santita, I swear it's not my fault. If I'd had a choice, I'd have been real handsome, or just a little ugly, not like this … and with eyes that see everything, without this stinking ophthal … mia, or whatever the doctor said. Look at the babes that are born with too many fingers or withered legs or their heads swollen with water … well, the same thing happens with love. Sometimes it's born all healthy and the judge and priest approve, and other times, it is born in the wrong circumstances and brings disappointment and unhappiness … like you and that officer fellow, for example … and still other times, it is born deformed, like la Gaditana's love for you.”

“But love, Hipo? Is it really love?”

“Yes, Santita, that's what the wise men say … Sometime when he's not too drunk, ask that poet who comes here. He'll tell you. It even has a special name that comes from some lady who drowned herself in the sea something like five thousand years ago …”

“So, a woman is in love with me? Yuck, Hipo, that makes me sick! And the next time that la Gaditana comes around I'm going to give her a taste of my body … with these fists. That'll fix her. It's fine that all the men want me, but …”

“No, not men, Santita,” interrupted Hipólito, suddenly abandoning the kidding tone of their chat, “not men … but just one man who loves you deeply, down to the bones, who lives for you and loves you beyond death itself, a man who never taunts you because of what you are, who adores you and protects you and feels proud to deserve your affection, any of it, even a tiny bit, because he idolizes you so, so much. You need a man who is going to hold you up higher than the stars, bury you in his heart, watch over you when you sleep, and always know what you are thinking, a man that, even if he lived as long as Methuselah, would find the time too short to express his love for you … Ay, Santita, then you'd see how glorious life can be, and you'd forget all about tears and sorrows, and shame, and repentance …”