The
feeling of security from want acted as a narcotic and soothed him, so
that the things which should have troubled him scarcely interested him
at all. He was intoxicated with the sight of gold. When he had first
seen Xantippe and the Englishman together his anger had been violent;
but when at last the futility of his rage became certain, his aggressive
passion had softened to a smouldering discontent that hardly worried
him, unless he heard some one speak a British name. His prosperity had
destroyed the last vestiges of shame and soothed his illogical outbursts
of fury. He was contented enough now to sit all day with Madam Marx,
and returned to his home in the evening when Xantippe was away. He had
spoken to her only once since she had told him she hated him. He had
strolled out of the cafe about midday and entered his room. Xantippe was
there, talking to her child, and quietly bade him go away.
"It's my room as well as yours," Gregorio had answered.
"It is my money that pays for it," was the reply.
A long conversation followed, but Xantippe met the man's coarse anger
with quiet scorn, and told him that if he stayed she would grow to
dislike her son since he was the father.
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