Chapter XVII

On the following morning, as soon as he was dressed, and after spending by his wife's side a much shorter time than circumstances required, he left the house and hastened to Mendoza's.

Mendoza at this time was lodging at one of the best and most central hotels of Madrid. When Miguel reached there, he was still asleep. Nevertheless, he went to his room, and took it upon himself to open the shutters like a friend whose familiarity was limitless.

"_Hola!_ I see that you sleep just the same as when you were not a great man."

Mendoza rubbed his eyes, and looked at him in amazement.

"What does this mean, Miguelito? Why so early in the morning?"

"My dear Perico, the first thing that you must do is to get rid of this condescending tone. When there are people present, I am perfectly willing for you to condescend, and I will call you 'most illustrious lordship' if you like; but when we are alone, just remember that I am not your vassal."

"You are always just the same, Miguel," replied Mendoza, a little exasperated.

"That is the advantage that you have over me: I am always the same; you are always changing and playing a new and brilliant role in society. I am satisfied, however, with mine--so satisfied that the fear of having to be different is what brings me here so early in the morning to disturb your dreams of glory."

"What do you mean?"

"That having up to the present time been considered a person 'well fixed,' or, to use the expressions affected by us literary fellows, being an Hidalgo of 'ancient stock,' and having 'five hundred _sueldos_ guerdon,' I--but you don't know what this means?"

"No!" replied Mendoza, with an impatient gesture.

"Well, it is very simple. If you should give me a slap (which I am sure you will not), I should get 'five hundred _sueldos_ guerdon,' or fine. On the other hand, if I should give you one (which is perfectly possible), there would be no need of your spending a sou.... Well then, having up to the present time played this role in society, I should feel it to the bottom of my soul to be obliged to try that of the poverty-stricken or the vagabond, which I have never studied."

"I don't understand you."

"I am coming to the point. Last evening Eguiburu presented himself at my house, and without any preamble demanded of me the thirty thousand duros which have been spent on _La Independencia_, and which I guaranteed, yielding to your entreaties.... Do you understand now?"

Brutandor said nothing for several moments, remaining in an attitude of meditation; then he said, with the solemn deliberation which characterized all his remarks:--

"I believe this amount should be paid, not by you, but by the Count de Rios."

"Ah! you think so, do you? Then I am saved. As soon as Eguiburu knows this opinion, I am certain that he will not venture to ask a _cuarto_ of me."

"If it were taken from you, it would be robbery."

"I am delighted to see that the immutable principles of natural law have not vanished from your mind. But you know that the actual law is on his side; and if, perchance, it should enter into his head to make use of law instead of equity, I want to know if you would have the heart to let him ruin me."

Miguel had grown very serious, and looked at his friend with that cold and hard expression which was always in his case a sign of repressed anger. Mendoza dropped his eyes, in confusion.

"I should feel very sorry to have any misfortune happen to you, Miguel."

"The question now is not about your feelings. What I want to know this instant is, if the general is ready to pay this sum."

"I think that the general has no other desire...."

"Nor is the question about the general's desires. I want to know--do you hear?--I want to know if he will pay the thirty thousand duros, or will not pay them."

"I shall have to write him: you know he is in Germany just now."

"The point is, that if he does not pay it, I will take it into court. I have letters from him acknowledging the debt," said Miguel, striding in a state of excitement up and down the room.

Mendoza allowed him to do so for some time, and then replied:--

"It seems to me, Miguel, that you ought not to be in too great a hurry to do this or look on the dark side; you won't get ahead any that way."

"What makes you say that?" retorted the brigadier's son, halting.

"You would get nothing by taking it to court."

"Why so?"

"Because the general has no fortune: all that he has is in his wife's name."

Miguel's eyes flamed with anger.

"The villain!" he muttered under his breath; and then added: "I shall be convinced that you are as vile as he."

"Miguel, for God's sake!"

"That is what I have said. Take it as you like. I am glad that it looks worse for him."

Mendoza had no wish nor courage to reply. He let him continue his walking up and down, in the hope that his anger would calm down, and in this he showed how well he knew his man. In fact, in a few minutes he shrugged his shoulders, paused near the bed, and throwing his hands on Mendoza's shoulders with a loving gesture, he said, laughing:--

"I have been unfair. I had forgotten that you were too much of a rough diamond to be a villain."

Mendoza was not annoyed by this singular apology.

"You are so quick-tempered, Miguel, that when one least thinks about it, you 'leave a man without the blood in his veins.'"

"It would be worse to leave one without any money."

"Man alive! you haven't lost it yet. I have no doubt that the matter will be settled all right."

"Do you know what plan Eguiburu proposed to me?"

"No; what?"

"That I should also guarantee the twelve thousand duros which he had furnished besides, and then he will wait."

Mendoza made no reply. Both remained lost in thought.

"That does not seem to me such a bad plan," said the former, at length. "I tell you frankly that at present it is impossible to get the thirty thousand duros from the general; I know his affairs well, and am certain that he is not in a situation to pay down this amount. But if it does not come from his private pocket, it may be got from the public treasury. I have it on good authority that the government has already voted some money (though not any such sum as this), to be spent on newspapers, and credited to the secret funds of the Ministry of the Government. The point here is to get influence enough for the minister to get hold of it."

"I suppose that the general will use all his."

"Of course. And I will do what I can. But the general is not in Madrid, and you know as well as I do that these delicate transactions cannot be managed through correspondence, or arranged in this way, ever. We must be always on the track, worry the minister with visits, speak to all his friends, so as to keep it before his attention, and, if it were possible, threaten him with some summons to the Cortes concerning some delicate affair which he would not like to have made public."

"_Caramba!_ Perico, you have made great advances in short time. You understand wire-pulling to the last detail."

"How so?"

"Man alive! certainly; for it is not this way that it is explained and defined to us by the treatises."

Mendoza shrugged his shoulders, at the same time pressing his lips into a sign of disdain.

"Well, then you want to bring the general back to Madrid?" added Miguel.

"That is impossible."

"Then what shall we do?"

Mendoza meditated.

"If you had been elected deputy, the thing would be much easier. In that case we should be two to ask the minister, who, looking out for his future interests, would be much more careful not to go counter to us...."

"But as I am not a deputy!"

Mendoza meditated another long time, and said:--

"Still it can all be arranged. The general, when he accepted the post of ambassador, left one district vacant, that of Serin, in Galicia. They will soon be having the second elections. If the government will accept you as _candidato adicto_, you are certain of a triumph."

Rivera said nothing, and seemed also lost in thought.

"Hitherto, Perico, I have never had the least idea of being the father of my country. You know well that I am of no good for kicking my heels in the ante-chambers of ministers, that I am not one to suffer impertinences and scorn, nor have I the talent for manoeuvring plots, nor the audacity for meddling in dark intrigues. I am so constituted that a cool look wounds me, a discourteous word annoys me, any disloyalty crushes and overwhelms me. I am incapable of giving my word and not fulfilling it; I have not sufficient calmness to keep cool when brought into contact with the sympathy and love, or the aversion, which men inspire in me. I get excited and lose my head with excessive ease, and under the influence of anger I speak out the first word that comes into my mind, however dangerous it is. Moreover, I have the misfortune of always seeing the comic side of things, and I have not sufficient strength of mind to repress myself and to refrain from saying what I think. Politicians, when they are not knaves worthy of jail, seem to me, with a few honorable exceptions, a herd of vulgar, ignorant men who have taken up this occupation as the easiest and most lucrative; many of them village intriguers who come to repeat in Congress the same trickeries which they have been practising in the _Ayuntamiento_[39] or the _Diputacion_;[40] others, men who have failed in literature, the sciences, and the arts, and not getting there the notoriety that they crave, seek it in the more accessible field of politics: a young man whose drama has been hissed off the stage; another, who has tried five or six times in vain to get a professorship; another, who has written various books that remain virgins and martyrs on the publishers' shelves,--these are the ones who, making their way into the Hall of Congress, where no one is judged by his merits, and rallying under the standard of some personage who began as they did, climb to lofty destinies, and as time goes on, come to regulate the affairs of the nation.... But I have become too serious," he added, lowering his voice and smiling. "The principal argument that I bring up against dedicating myself to political life,--I will tell it to you as a secret,--is, that I detest it; I detest it from the bottom of my heart. Nevertheless, as I am threatened with ruin, I am determined to enter it to restore my fortunes, which I was foolish enough to compromise."

Brutandor looked at him with wide-opened eyes: any one can imagine, knowing the tendency of his mind, that Miguel spoke a language entirely incomprehensible to him.

When he ended, the newly elected deputy imperceptibly shrugged his shoulders and puckered his mouth into that look very common to him, one that made it hard to tell whether it meant indifference or disdain or surprise or resignation. Miguel used to maintain that his friend Mendoza was able to understand only eleven things in this world: when anything distinct from the eleven was said, instead of answering, he made the face spoken of, and gave it to be understood that there the matter ended.

"Well," said he, noticing that face, "to do this you must introduce me to the government ministry."

"I will introduce you to the President of the Council. I am better acquainted with him than with Escalante."

"I am glad of that, for Escalante is not congenial to me, and at all events I don't know the President. Do you want to go this afternoon to the Presidency?"

Mendoza looked at him in amazement.

"But don't you know that I am going to speak to-day in Congress?"

"Forgive me, dear fellow; I don't know a single word about it. And what are you going to speak about?"

"About tariff reform. It is the first speech that I shall have made. Hitherto I have only put inquiries."

"Don't be so modest, Perico; I happen to know that you have presented a report concerning the citizens of Valdeorras, without flinching or anything coming of it."

"Don't you laugh; the danger to-day is very serious."

"Terrible!... Especially for the taxes.... And when are you to be married?"

Mendoza looked down and flushed.

"On the fifteenth."

"I am delighted that you are entering into the good path," said Miguel, noticing Mendoza's mortification, and generously trying to spare him.

"Come, get up, man; it is already almost eleven o'clock."

"You will breakfast with me, won't you?"

"My dear fellow, you must know that to-day is an exceptional day for me!"

"Of course I know it; but then we will go together to Congress; and perhaps, if the session is over in time, we might go to the presidency."

This last suggestion pleased Miguel, because he saw clearly that his thirty thousand duros depended on the influence that he might gain over. After thinking a little, he said:--

"Very well; I will send a message to my wife, so that she will not be worried."

He sat down at Mendoza's table, while the latter was dressing, and dashed off a few lines to Maximina. While writing them, he could not help saying in a tone of grief:--

"Strange circumstances that oblige me to leave my wife alone on the day after she has presented me with a son! Nevertheless, it is for her and for him that I do it. If I were a bachelor, it would not make much difference if I were ruined."

After he was dressed, and before they went down into the dining-room, Mendoza showed his friend the jewels that he was going to present to his "future." They were magnificent and in the latest style. Miguel praised them as they deserved, at the same time wondering where Perico had got the money to buy them; and though he was much tempted to ask him, he had the delicacy not to do so.

Then they went down to a private room on the _entresol_ floor, where Brutandor was in the habit of breakfasting alone. The waiter served them a remarkably fine breakfast, among other things, Burgundy and champagne _frappe_ for dessert.

"This is extravagant, Perico," he said. "The next time I shall forbid your treating me in such style."

"The senorito always breakfasts like this," said the waiter, smiling with evident satisfaction.

"_Hola!_" exclaimed Miguel, in surprise. "Who could have believed, Perico, that those heavy leaders that you used to write in _La Independencia_ would have been so quickly coined into oysters, fillets of veal, and Burgundy!"

Brutandor dropped his head, and there are reasons for belief that the precursory symptoms of a smile appeared in his face. However, if any one should be inclined to deny it, there would not fail to be arguments in support of such an opinion. Mendoza's smiles always gave room for dispute.

After breakfast they betook themselves to Congress, not, however, without the Amphitryon first hurrying up to his room, and bringing down a package of documents, which proved to be notes for his speech.

"_Maria Santisima!_" cried Miguel. "How calm and undisturbed are the poor deputies who at this moment are without a thought of the coming earthquake!"

They arrived in altogether too good season. There were but few people in the _salon_ and the lobbies. Mendoza went to join a group of personages, grave and solemn like himself, and began to talk with them. When one spoke, the others maintained a courteous silence; there might be some question, however, whether they listened very attentively, but there was no room for doubt that each one listened to himself with perfect delight. Miguel joined a group of journalists where tumultuous gayety reigned.

When it was time for the session to begin, he went with them to the reporters' gallery, which in a short time was crowded. Almost all the faces to be seen there were young, and such a babel of voices and disorder constantly prevailed there that it was difficult to hear.

In vain the ushers, with a familiarity that anywhere else would have been called insolence, warned and even threatened them; the reporters paid no attention to their menaces, and when they deigned to listen, it was merely to reply with some bloodthirsty witticism: if the usher at last became really angry, there was sure to be some one who would take the wind out of his sails by throwing his arms around his neck, and promising him promotion "as soon as he came to be minister."

Some amused themselves by sharpening pencils; others, by cutting up paper into pads; others drew out from between vest and shirt enormous writing-tablets: one would think that it was an orchestra beginning to tune up. Settling themselves into absurd attitudes, they all talked, shouted, laughed, fired repartees at each other, and made witty remarks about the deputies who were now coming into the large and elegant _salon_, and casting sheep's-eyes at them, or rather the eyes of dying lambs asking mercy. As a general thing, these were the rural members. Those who lived in Madrid always had some acquaintances among the journalists, and to these they made signs and winks from below, and sometimes sent caramels, to which the reporters would respond with rhymed notes.

"Look here, my dear; do you know what uniform the sub-governors are going to wear?"

"The sub-governors won't have anything else than a sub-uniform," replied a sufficiently ill-favored reporter named Inza. This same Inza, who was in one corner arranging his pad, shortly after remarked:--

"Ah, here comes Alonso Ramirez enveloped in the skins of his clients."

The famous lawyer just at that moment came in, wearing a magnificent overcoat trimmed with fur.

This jest has since that time been credited to a politician by his friends, and they would be quite capable of claiming that he wrote the Holy Bible, if they felt like it.

Keen sallies passed from one to another in loud tones, and caused hearty laughter, and stimulated the victim to sharpen his wits so as to reply with some other joke still more piquante. Much talent and still more jollity were wasted in that incommodious gallery.

"Do you know, Juanito, that you are losing your wits?" cried one young man to another.

"What can I do about it, man; for a week ago the chief sent me to the Academy of Moral and Political Sciences?"

From time to time hot disputes came up on subjects most absurd or foreign to the profession of the disputant; for instance, about the method of loading needle-guns or driving carriages.

And they would gabble and get angry until the ushers compelled them to stop, or some opportune joke from a comrade would bring them to their senses.

The President mounted his lofty seat; instantly he was surrounded by a group of deputies, to whom he began with paternal solicitude to offer an abundant supply of caramels.

These caramels, which at that time did not cost the State more than five hundred duros a day, are an institution, the history of which has unfortunately been very much neglected. Nothing more useful can be imagined than to study the vicissitudes through which it has passed, the beneficent influence which these sweetmeats have exercised on the government of our people, and the elements of progress which they have carried with them. Its whole history might be compassed in three small volumes of easy and agreeable reading.

When they were through, or when the President no longer cared to give any more, the deputies went to their seats, and the session was opened. The first person to get the floor was an ancient republican of pale complexion, dull eyes, and a great shock of hair which made him look like the images in our churches. He got up to speak of an insurrection that had been started in Cadiz. The subject was of keen interest, and there was a great curiosity in Congress to hear this gentleman's remarks, as he was supposed to be one of the promoters of the revolution. He began in these words, or to the same effect:--

"In the primitive times of history man wandered naked through the forests, supporting life with the fruit of trees, and the milk and flesh of animals which he hunted. One day he saw an animal like himself passing through the woods. He flung his lasso and caught it. It proved to be--a woman. Hence the family, _senores diputados_...."

He went on giving a complete though succinct sketch of universal history, and explained to the minutest details the theories of the social contract. He quoted numerous texts from the wise men of ancient and modern times in support of his own theories. Attention was attracted above all by one proposition of bold originality, and as it was received with murmurs by the assembly, the deputy exclaimed:--

"What! does this surprise you? But it is not I that say it. Brigida says it."

"Who is Brigida?" asked a journalistic tyro.

"His housekeeper," replied another, without looking up.

"Why! what a ridiculous thing to quote his housekeeper here!" exclaimed the first.

The deputies received with renewed murmurs the name of the author of the quotation.

"Brigida says it," cried the orator with all the force of his lungs.

Louder and longer murmurs. When quiet was restored, he said in a grave and solemn tone:--

"Santa Brigida says so!"

"Ahaaaaaa!" replied the assembly.

The last five minutes were devoted to the events in Cadiz, and that was to say that it was all the fault of the government.

It seems logical to report that the orator was removed from there in a cage and taken to a mad-house. Nothing of the sort happened, however: the minister replied in all formality, and combated his quotations and theories with other quotations and other theories. At that period all addresses began with Adam and no one was surprised at it.

Next, coming to the order of the day, it was the turn of tariff reform, and Mendoza was granted the floor. He, having spread out on his desk his earthquake of notes, coughing three or four times, lifting up his hands an equal number, began his great oration.

His voice was well modulated, clear, and mellow; his tone grave and high-sounding; his gestures noble and refined. Neither Demosthenes, nor Cicero, nor Mirabeau were blessed with such an effective presence and such an elegant round of attitudes as our friend Brutandor.

But the trouble was that the ideas that proceeded from his mouth did not correspond in the least with such attitudes. That wrathful gesture, that lowering and raising of the voice, and those short but quick steps in front of his desk, were very appropriate to accompany the celebrated "Tell your master that only by the force of bayonets will we be taken from this spot," or the _Quousque tandem Catilina_; but for saying that the annual consumption of cotton in England in 1767 was 4,000,000 pounds, and that in 1867 it was more than 1,400,000,000 pounds; that the number of workmen engaged there in the manufacture of cotton is 500,000, and 4,000,000 the persons whose living depends on this industry; that the value of the paper manufactured in 1835 was 80,000,000 pounds and in 1860 exceeded 223,000,000; that the manufactories of the said product at the present time numbered 394; that in France its production exceeded 25,000,000 kilograms, etc.,--they did not seem so appropriate. His whole discourse was reduced to this: quantities, dates, facts. The deputies, with more or less dissimulation, began to desert the salon, one after the other.

"This orator is an air-pump," said one reporter. "At this rate there will soon be a perfect vacuum."

The jokes and flings in the press-gallery became general. Miguel, who knew what he had to expect from his friend's genius, listened with disgust to their raillery of him: he was anxious, and somewhat inclined to cut short their jests peremptorily; but, as in that tribunal of Liberty, comment on the speeches was traditional, he did his best to restrain himself. The best thing that occurred to him, in order to avoid being compromised, was to make a hurried visit home and find out how his wife was. When he returned, the orator was still speaking.

"Now, Congress is about to see the most curious thing of all," said the worthy Brutandor.

And, on turning round to gather up from his desk the papers on which it was written, he showed the seat of his trousers! But no one noticed this graceful _quid pro quo_ except Miguel and a shorthand reporter, who could not help laughing.

The joking continued among the reporters; the observations, however, were made more with the purpose of causing a laugh than of hurting the feelings of the orator, whom almost all knew or were intimate with. Only one, the editor of a Carlist daily, from time to time got off serious criticisms in bad taste, as though he had some personal ill-will against Mendoza. Miguel had already looked at this man two or three times in an aggressive manner, without the other taking any notice of it. At last, accosting him, Miguel said:--

"See here, friend; I am not surprised that the numbers of _El Universo_ are so stupid! You evidently take pains to waste all your wit here."

"What you just said to me seems to me an intentional insult, sir!"

"Perhaps."

"You will immediately give me an apology," said the journalist, very much disturbed.

"No; I should much prefer to give you some unpleasantness by and by," replied Miguel, with a smile.

Then the editor of _El Universo_ took his hat and went out in great indignation. In a short time, two Catholic, deputies made their appearance in the gallery, asking for Miguel.

"You have come to ask me to make an apology, have you? Then I tell you that I shall not make one. Come to an understanding with these two friends of mine."

And he introduced those whom he had selected. The Catholic editor's seconds had not come so primed for a bellicose decision: after consulting a few moments with Miguel's, they went down to ask further instructions of their principal; then returned in a short time with the calumet of peace in their hands, saying that 'their friend's religious principles did not allow him to settle insults with weapons.'

On hearing this, there was an explosion of laughter in the gallery.

"Then, if his religious principles do not allow him to fight," said Miguel, irritated, "there was no reason for him to choose seconds. But it seems as if this gentleman wished to try his fortune."

At last, Mendoza finished his oration with three deputies in the hall, one of them snoring. This, however, did not prevent the papers on the following day declaring that he was a man "most skilled in financial matters."

When Miguel went to congratulate him, he was sweating copiously but calm and serene as a god, surrounded by all the members of the committee of Estimates.

They left Congress together, and went for refreshments to the Cafe de la Iberia. After chatting there for some time, Miguel doing most of the talking (for we know of old that Mendoza was not the man to waste his breath foolishly), the latter got up, saying:--

"Well, Miguelito, excuse me if I leave you; I have a few things to attend to."

Rivera's eyes expressed surprise and indignation.

"Your glory has spoiled your memory, Perico. Hadn't we agreed to see the President after the session?"

"That is a fact: I had forgotten," replied Mendoza, without being able to repress a motion of vexation and disgust. "I don't know as this is--it is pretty near dinner time...."

Miguel, who had not failed to notice his gesture, said with characteristic impetuosity:--

"Look here, do you imagine that I lamentably wasted two hours hearing you quote data to be found in any statistical annual merely for the pleasure of doing so?... I never believed that your egotism was carried to such a degree. You see me within a hand's-breadth of ruin, for your sake, only for your sake, and instead of using all your powers to save me, in doing which you would be merely fulfilling your duty, you manifest Olympian indifference; you aren't even willing to put yourself out to go with me from here to the Presidency. That is unworthy, shameful! I have excused many things in my life, Perico; but this goes beyond bounds."

Rivera, in saying these words, trembled with indignation.

"Don't be so explosive man! why, I have not yet refused to go with you to the Presidency, or anywhere else," said Mendoza, laying his hand on his shoulder, while his lips were curved by that humble smile which Miguel compared to that of "a Newfoundland dog." "Come on! let us go this very moment to the Presidency!"

"Come on, then," said Rivera dryly, getting up.

After going a few steps his vexation subsided.

When they reached there, the President had not yet come in. Mendoza, as a deputy, made his way immediately into the office, and there they both waited, taking a comfortable seat on a sofa while the throng of office-hunters were spoiling in the anteroom. It was not long before there was the sound of a carriage under the _porte cochere_: instantly all the bells in the house began to jingle madly.

"Here comes the President," said Mendoza.

Indeed, in a few seconds he came into the office, accompanied by a number of deputies. Seeing Mendoza, he greeted him in the free and easy tone with which he greeted the friends who came every day.

"Well worked up, my dear Mendoza, well worked up. It has produced a very good effect."

He alluded to the speech.

Mendoza, instead of being embarrassed by the greatness of the personage before whom he stood, replied in the same familiar and fluent tone. This self-possession did not fail to impress Miguel; for he, being more accustomed to social intercourse, could not help feeling some emotion of respect before the man who held the reins of government.

The President was about fifty years old: he was fair and pale, with regular, and not unpleasing, features; the only thing that disfigured his face was a row of huge teeth, which were apt to be uncovered when he smiled; and this he did frequently, not to say incessantly.

"I present my friend, Miguel Rivera, who is now the actual editor of _La Independencia_."

"I have heard of this gentleman. I am very, very glad to make your acquaintance, Senor Rivera," said the President, shaking hands with exceeding amiability. "You will excuse me a moment, will you not?" he added, touching them both on the shoulder; "I have to speak a few words with these gentlemen.... I will be with you in an instant."

The instant was about half an hour. Miguel had been growing impatient. But the President's courteous reception made him feel better, and inclined him to pardon the delay.

"There," said he, after taking leave of the other gentlemen, "now I am at your service. What can I do for you, friend Mendoza?"

"I wanted to know if you have come to any decision about the district of Serin?"

"What district is that: the one left by General Rios?" he asked, for a moment ceasing to smile, and fixing his eyes on the window.

"Yes, sir."

"We have not as yet given any thought to the vacant districts. The second elections will not take place for two months at least."

"My friend Rivera, here, has conceived the idea of presenting himself for that district in case the government should favor it."

"There is some little time yet; still you would do well to begin making your arrangements.... But, friend Mendoza, you are a 'well of science'!" he added, jocularly, not making it at all evident whether he spoke ironically or not. "Ah! that was a meaty discourse that you gave us this afternoon!"

Brutandor inclined his head, and did his best to smile.

"I am not going to be ceremonious with you, gentlemen, for you are friends. Come and take dinner with me, and then we can talk with greater comfort and ease."

And he showed them into a private room where there was a table spread. Neither Mendoza nor Miguel accepted his invitation, but the latter appreciated this kindly hospitality.

The President began his meal, more than once deploring that his friends would not join him; he kept growing more and more expansive and genial with Mendoza, and he overwhelmed Miguel with refined and delicate attentions, now speaking in the terms of warmest eulogy of his father, whom he had known, and now calling to mind some good article in _La Independencia_; again, asking with lively interest into the details of his life: if he were married, and how long since? where had he studied? what was he doing? etc., etc. He related to them various lively anecdotes, and made some droll sketches of some dead politicians whom he had known in times gone by; of those who were alive he always spoke with sufficient consideration, even though they were in the opposition. Suddenly interrupting himself, he asked:--

"Isn't it true, Senor Rivera, that the President of the Council is a trifle impudent?"

"It used to be said that Richelieu also was," replied Miguel, with a bow.

"I feel that I have his defects, and not his qualities. You can imagine how I envy those reserved, polite, prudent men ... like our friend Mendoza here!"

Again it was difficult to tell whether the head of the government were speaking seriously.

"I do not; it would be depriving myself of one of the greatest pleasures of life."

"I agree with you; but it costs the most of all."

And in this connection he related several cases where by frankly saying what he thought, it had caused him serious losses. His conversation was gay, insinuating, without the least snobbishness; his fault lay, on the contrary, in excessive familiarity.

When he had finished eating, he courteously offered cigars, and after lighting one and leaning back in his chair, he asked Rivera:--

"So, then, you wish to be deputy for Serin?"

"If you have no opposition to it...."

"I? Why should I have any opposition to it? It is sufficient that you are Brigadier Rivera's son and Mendoza's friend. Besides, no election could be more suitable than yours. You are a young man of talent, as has already been proved; you belong to the democratic wing of the party, and that composes a very respectable contingent in it; you have an independent fortune ... on men like you the heads of the government ought to have great reliance, and ought to win them over at all hazards. We like young men of intelligence, and with a future ahead of them; rising stars! As for those that are declining, let them have a feather-bed to rest in! That is public life."

He remained a few moments pensive; puffed at his cigar, and added:--

"I am not acquainted with this district of Serin. Do you know how it is situated, Mendoza?"

"My impression is that government has absolute control of it. The general had certainly no opposition."

"Very good; but you must remember that the general is a figure of the first magnitude in politics, and that his name would be sufficient to scare off all opposition."

"Nevertheless, I believe that the district, with such little help as the government may afford, is secure."

"Really?"

"Yes, sir."

"And is the general agreeable to Senor Rivera's candidacy?"

"Certainly he is; they are old friends. I will stand guarantee for him."

"Well, if that is so," said the President, rising and laying one hand on Miguel's shoulder; "count yourself as deputy."

"Many thanks, Senor Presidente!"

"Don't mention it. What other wish could I have than that all the deputies of the majority were like you!... Don't fail to come and talk things over with me soon. Though the elections will be postponed a little, it will be necessary for you to write to the district, and through the general's mediation come into relationship with some person of influence there. Don't send out any manifesto. When the occasion arrives, we will write to the governor. _Adios, senores_; I am so glad to have made your acquaintance! You must feel assured that I am at your service. Do not forget me, and be sure to come and see me some time!"

Miguel departed, enthusiastic over his interview. When he was in the street, he exclaimed:--

"But how cordial the President is! Oftentimes one finds a mere clerk more puffed up in his office! Still he lets one see the superiority of persons when it is legitimate. I am not surprised that he has so many friends, and so firm ones.... How easy it is for a man high in rank to win friends! Now, here I am! He gives me merely a natural and kindly welcome, and says a few courteous phrases, and I am ready to die for him!"

"You must not neglect to write to the general immediately," said Mendoza, gravely.

"You are a man of ice, Perico! For you there are no friendships nor hatreds; no men are congenial or antipathetic. From all you take what you need, and go your way.... Perhaps you are right."