Part 48 (2/2)
”I hope you won't be sorry later.”
”Pshaw! Later one jumps into the position that suits one. On these first rungs of political life, either you have to have great luck, or you have to go like a gra.s.shopper, first here, then there. That is the take-off, and when you are there all the ambitious mediocrities unite against you if you have any talent. Naturally, I do not intend to do anything to exhibit mine. Spanish politics are like a pond; a strong, healthy stick of wood goes to the bottom; a piece of bark or cork or a sheaf of straw stays on the surface. One has to disguise oneself as a cork.”
”And later you will go on and make yourself known.”
”Naturally. Since I find myself in the vein for making comparisons, I will say that in Spanish politics we have a case like those in the old comedies of intrigue, where the lackeys pretend to be gentlemen. When I am once among the gentlemen, I shall know how to prove that I am more a master than the people surrounding me.”
”How conceited you are.”
”The confidence one feels in oneself,” said Caesar ironically.
”But have you really got it, or do you only pretend to have?”
”What matter whether I have it or haven't it, if I behave as if I had it?”
”It matters a lot. It matters whether you are calm or not in the moment of danger.”
”Calmness is the muse that inspires me. I haven't it in my thoughts, but in active life you shall see me!”
The two friends stretched themselves out in their first-cla.s.s compartment, and lay half asleep until dawn, when they got up again.
The train was running rapidly across the flat country; the yellow sunlight shone into the car; through the newly sowed fields rode men on horseback.
”These are not my dominions yet,” said Caesar.
”We have two more stations till Castro Duro,” responded Alzugaray, consulting the time-table. They took off their caps, put them into the bag, Caesar put on a fresh collar, and they sat down by the window.
”It is ugly enough, eh?” said Alzugaray.
”Naturally,” replied Caesar. ”What do you want; that there should be some of those green landscapes like in your country, which for my part irritate me?”
THE CLa.s.sIC STAGECOACH
They arrived at Castro Duro. In the station they saw groups of peasants.
The travellers with their baggage went out of the station. There were two shabby coaches at the door.
”Are you going to the Comercio?” asked one driver.
”No, they are going to the Espana,” said the other.
”Then you two know more than we do,” answered Alzugaray, ”because we don't know where to go.”
”To the Comercio!”
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