INthemorningitwasallover.Thefiestawasfinished.Iwokeaboutnineo'clock,hadabath,dressed,andwentdown-stairs.Thesquarewasemptyandtherewerenopeopleonthestreets.Afewchildrenwerepickinguprocket-sticksinthesquare.Thecaféswerejustopeningandthewaiterswerecarryingoutthecomfortablewhitewickerchairsandarrangingthemaroundthemarble-toppedtablesintheshadeofthearcade.Theyweresweepingthestreetsandsprinklingthemwithahose.
Isatinoneofthewickerchairsandleanedbackcomfortably.Thewaiterwasinnohurrytocome.Thewhite-paperannouncementsoftheunloadingofthebullsandthebigschedulesofspecialtrainswerestilluponthepillarsofthearcade.Awaiterwearingablueaproncameoutwithabucketofwaterandacloth,andcommencedtoteardownthenotices,pullingthepaperoffinstripsandwashingandrubbingawaythepaperthatstucktothestone.Thefiestawasover.
IdrankacoffeeandafterawhileBillcameover.Iwatchedhimcomewalkingacrossthesquare.Hesatdownatthetableandorderedacoffee.
Well,hesaid,it'sallover.
Yes,Isaid.Whendoyougo?
Idon'tknow.Webettergetacar,Ithink.Aren'tyougoingbacktoParis?
No.Icanstayawayanotherweek.IthinkI'llgotoSanSebastian.
Iwanttogetback.
What'sMikegoingtodo?
He'sgoingtoSaintJeandeLuz.
Let'sgetacarandallgoasfarasBayonne.Youcangetthetrainupfromthereto-night.
Good.Let'sgoafterlunch.
Allright.I'llgetthecar.
Wehadlunchandpaidthebill.Montoyadidnotcomenearus.Oneofthemaidsbroughtthebill.Thecarwasoutside.Thechauffeurpiledandstrappedthebagsontopofthecarandputtheminbesidehiminthefrontseatandwegotin.Thecarwentoutofthesquare,alongthroughthesidestreets,outunderthetreesanddownthehillandawayfromPamplona.Itdidnotseemlikeaverylongride.MikehadabottleofFundador.Ionlytookacoupleofdrinks.WecameoverthemountainsandoutofSpainanddownthewhiteroadsandthroughtheoverfoliaged,wet,green,Basquecountry,andfinallyintoBayonne.WeleftBill'sbaggageatthestation,andheboughtatickettoParis.Histrainleftatseven-ten.Wecameoutofthestation.Thecarwasstandingoutinfront.
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