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Mina laughed at his oaths of love accompanied by tragic gestures, and invited him to eat, demanding that he not break his customs and continue to smoke a long cigar crossed by a straw between course and course, which spread a foul odor.

One night, the count, to thank no doubt for these kindnesses, invited her to a cinematograph. A real expense: a lira per person; But when he aspires to marry a millionaire! …

Mina had to wait at the door for a few minutes, while her lover took the tickets, talking at length with the clerk at the ticket office. She came to suspect whether she was asking for a reduction in the price, since there were two tickets purchased.

A colorful poster distracted her attention. A man appeared in it on horseback, with a shaved face, a large hat, a red scarf on his shoulders, and two revolvers at his waist. It was a somewhat theatrical reproduction of the horsemen she had known in her childhood. Above this figure he saw a name: “Lionel Gould.” It was not new to him; I had heard it once. At the bottom of the poster she found another name: “King of the Pra licenses. Oh yeah! This was the nickname of an American artist named Gould, who had gained universal celebrity by playing the role of an avenging and chivalrous cowboy in countless cinematic dramas whose action invariably took place across the plains of the Southern States. United.

For the first time, Mina looked closely at the celebrated artist of silent tragedy. She was sure that she had seen him in films of which she only had a vague memory; but now “The King of the Prairies” offered her the allure of a novelty.

She followed her with palpitations of real interest as she fought, alone and with her fists, with a group of bandits. Then she killed a tiger; then the Indians tied him to a post to burn him alive. How she breathed to see him miraculously safe! … There was no power, in heaven or on earth, capable of ending this handsome man. And because of the attraction of the contrast, she looked for a moment with compassionate eyes at the count of unfurnished palaces, the grandson of Michelangelo’s protector, who spoke to her of love, trying to separate her attention from the interesting things that were unfolding on the white screen.

There was a moment when she believed that a forgotten pin on her chest was putting meat inside her. “The King of the Prairies” was visible only from the bust, with an enormous head, and stunned by the distressing situation, he lowered his gaze. Then she would raise her eyes, to fix them directly on the audience with an expression of childish pain.

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