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He was persistent。 Business must have been rotten these nights； with everyone staying away。 〃Just one small dance the seсorita refuses？〃 he coaxed。
She gave in finally； as the quickest and easiest way of getting rid of him。 After all； of the two evils； it would look less suspicious…to out there…to be seen dancing with him than to have him stand parleying beside her table for any length of time。
She got up and he led her back inside on his arm like some kind of a living trophy。 There were three others of his kind sitting disconsolately around the dance floor； one to a table。 Probably they worked on a percentage basis。
She'd never tangoed before。 She didn't have to now。 He tangoed for both of them。 He was good at it； as one should be at one's livelihood。 Even the scissors step she found herself doing without realizing it。 Over his shoulder she could still see the trees out there。 Whichever way she turned； they were waiting； on three sides of her； out beyond the hedge； as if to say： 〃We'll get you。 You're ing。 We'll get you。〃
Even a gigolo； a gigolo to cling to； was better than being alone with the darkness lying in wait all around。
After they'd gone once around the black glass； she said： 〃What's the name of that； they're playing？〃
He had to hum the words over to himself first in Spanish； to marshal them for translation。
Adios muchachos； paneros de mi vida；
Se acabaron para mi todas las farras
〃I do not speak the English very well。 It is of someone whose life is soon to finish。 It say； 'Goodby； boys； my life panions； For me is ending…
Even the music。 〃Please don't go ahead；〃 she said in a sick voice。 〃Will you excuse me now？ I'd like to go back to my table。〃
〃I have displeased the seсorita？〃
〃Not at all。 I have a headache。 Would you mind telling me how much I owe you？〃 They were back at the table by now。
He wasn't in the least dismayed。 〃The seсorita is too generous。 She did not plete her dance…〃
〃Take this anyway；〃 she said； to get rid of him； and touched his hand briefly。
Then she was alone again； a motionless； doomed figure sitting passively under a blood…red lantern。 She sat on for half an hour after she'd finished her coffee。 That sense of being watched kept growing stronger all the time。 Her very skin felt it； kept trying to crawl away from it。 She had to keep fighting； not to turn her head and look。 Once she almost had an impression of something luminous； phosphorescent； glowing out at her through the bushes。 She had to throw down a spoon and then stoop for it； the impulse to turn and see was so strong。 When she had straightened up in her chair again； she could resist； better。 By then it was gone anyway； whatever it had been； the corners of her eyes no longer felt it。
It seemed so silly； somehow； expecting to meet violence； perhaps even death itself； face to face within a short while； expecting to have to claw and rake at it with your bare hands； in defense of your life perhaps； and yet to be sitting here now dipping those same fingers into a bowl of tepid water with a gardenia floating around in it。 If she lived； she knew； she'd never be able to look at finger bowls again without thinking of this night； living it over again； if only for a moment or two。 At some gay dinner party years from now； in the midst of the wine and the chatter； her face would suddenly pale and her laughter freeze as the dark memory came back； and people would wonder why and ask her。 If she lived。
The last thing she did before leaving was to crumble up a roll； gather the pieces in a napkin。 〃For the swans；〃 she smiled at the waiter as she paid her check。
〃At this hour？〃 The terrified； unspoken warning on his face was plain to read。
〃I like animals；〃 she said。 （〃But not jaguars；〃 she added to herself。） She stood up； turned； walked slowly out toward the break in the hedge。 The carriage glided up。 She put her silver shoe to the step。 〃Here I go；〃 she thought sickly。
Then she was in； and the lanterns were withdrawing through the trees。 One last one； a green one； lingered on longer than all the others； seen through a break in the trees。 Then that snuffed Out too； and the Madrid was gone into the night。
He started to whip up his horse； anxious to get out of the accursed Bosque as fast as he could。
〃Drive siowiy；〃 she ordered sharply。 〃It's too nice a night to rush。〃 Then when they came to the side road； 〃Turn down this way。〃
〃Ah； no； seсorita；〃 the old fellow almost whimpered。 〃Not down there。 That is exactly where it happened the last time。〃
I ought to know if anybody does； she thought dismally。 Aloud she said； 〃Don't you read the papers？ It's on the other side of town now。 It's not in here any more！〃 This in English； then in her capsule Spanish； and with gestures to plete the thought： 〃No here。 Otra parte。〃
He understood； language not being the barrier between human beings that is monly supposed。 〃They may be mistaken；〃 he whined。
〃In； in！〃 she insisted。
He headed his horse around and reluctantly turned in where she had told him to。 It was a long leafy tunnel in the moonlight； tree meeting tree above。 A greenish…black tube； freckled with silver。 Infinitely beautiful； infinitely dangerous。 The horse's hoofs resounded along its empty length like a knell。
It was lifeless。 The public was giving the Bosque a wide berth these nights； all but the one main driveway that led straight out。 It stretched on for a while； straight as a ramrod。 Then it started making that leisurely turn at last that told the lake was ing near。
The moon wasn't as bright as the other night； it was waning now； but the lake still flashed out beside her like a sheet of hammered silver when at last they had reached that place where the road drew nearest to it and it could be seen。 That unforgettable place。 The screen of trees drew back； like a curtain parting for the last act of a tragedy； and there was just a grassy slope left between her and it。
She could hardly breathe any more； she was choking with rigidly suppressed yet steadily mounting terror。 〃Stop here；〃 she managed to articulate。
He either didn't hear her or pretended not to； as an excuse for going on past with the least possible delay。 She had to strike him lightly and repeatedly on the back； as if she were knocking on a door。 〃 Para； entiende？ I said stop here。 Wait for me。 I want to feed those birds a minute。〃
〃Ah no； seсorita； vбlgame dios！ 〃 he wailed almost in falsetto。 〃That is the very way in which it happened to that other…〃
〃Did you hear what I said？〃 she snapped。 〃You won't get a centavo that's ing to you if you don't do as you're told！〃
The carriage fell motionless。 She rose up in it； stepped down to the ground。 The stillness was unearthly now that the horse had stopped。 It was malign in itself； it was so unnatural。 One foot forward； the next forward； the first forward again。 The roadway changed to turf； but the ground remained level the first few steps。 Then it started downward； in a gentle； grassy decline。 It wasn't hard to manage even in high…heeled silver slippers； it wasn't steep enough for that； but it was all she could do to ke