"Good-bye, O friend of the lowly scarab!"
At the dip of the road down into the bridged arroyo, she turned,
and was surprised--or at least she told herself so--to find him
still looking after her.
II
AT THE KAST
One dines at the Gran Hotel Kast after the fashion of a champignon
sous cloche. The top of the cloche is of fluted glass, with a wide
aperture between it and the sides, to admit the rain in the wet
season and the flies in the dry. Three balconies run up from the
dining-room well to this roof, and upon these, as near to the
railings as they choose, the rather conglomerate patronage of the
place sleeps, takes baths, dresses, gossips, makes love, quarrels,
and exchanges prophecies as to next Sunday's bullfight, while the
diners below strive to select from the bill of fare special
morsels upon which they will stake their internal peace for the
day. No cabaret can hold a candle to it for variety of interest.
When the sudden torrential storms sweep down the mountains at meal
times, the little human champignons, beneath their insufficient
cloche, rush about wildly seeking spots where the drippage will
not wash their food away.
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