W-warsaw, c-called S-stadtnitzki, if I r-remember c-correctly. P-perhaps you s-saw him?” he asked timidly and almost blushingly.
“It’s very likely,” answered Ibarra in a friendly manner, “but just at this moment I don’t recall him.”
“B-but you c-couldn’t have c-confused him with any one else,” went on the Doctor, taking courage. “He was r-ruddy as gold and t-talked Spanish very b-badly.”
“Those are good clues, but unfortunately while there I talked Spanish only in a few consulates.”
“How then did you get along?” asked the wondering Doña Victorina.
“The language of the country served my needs, madam.”
“Do you also speak English?” inquired the Dominican, who had been in Hongkong, and who was a master of pidgin-English, that adulteration of Shakespeare’s tongue used by the sons of the Celestial Empire.
“I stayed in England a year among people who talked nothing but English.”
“Which country of Europe pleased you the most?” asked the rubicund youth.
“After Spain, my second fatherland, any country of free Europe.”
“And you who seem to have traveled so much, tell us what do you consider the most notable thing that you have seen?” inquired Laruja.
Ibarra appeared to reflect. “Notable—in what way?”
“For example, in regard to the life of the people—the social, political, religious life—in general, in its essential features—as a whole.”
Ibarra paused thoughtfully before replying. “Frankly, I like everything in those people, setting aside the national pride of each one. But before visiting a country, I tried to familiarize myself with its history, its Exodus, if I may so speak, and afterwards I found everything quite natural. I have observed that the prosperity or misery of each people is in direct proportion to its liberties or its prejudices and,
