Tristana

In the bustling streets of Chamberí, near the water depot rather than the fashionable Cuatro Caminos, a curious figure drifts through the narrow courtyards and taverns. He calls himself Don Lope Garrido, though his birth name was Juan López, and he fashions his identity with the same care as a polished hat. At an indeterminate fifty‑seven, he maintains a crisp chistera, a long cape, and a moustache that seems to belong to a younger era. His appearance—sharp cheekbones, steady eyes, and a proud bearing—makes him impossible to overlook.

Without a steady profession, Lope fills his days with coffee‑house debates, casino chatter, and leisurely walks through the neighborhood's winding alleys. He prides himself on having “conquered more towers of virtue” than the hair on his head, a boast that colors his flirtatious glances at every passing maid. As the story unfolds, his charming self‑image meets the reality of a Madrid that no longer produces the gallants he remembers, setting the stage for gentle humor and unexpected encounters.