He met many carriages, drawn by beautiful pairs of dwarfish ponies,
within which were government clerks who seemed yet half asleep as they
made their way to their offices, or military officers, or Chinese in
foolish and ridiculous attitudes, or Gave friars and canons. In an
elegant victoria he thought he recognized Padre Damaso, grave and
frowning, but he had already passed. Now he was pleasantly greeted
by Capitan Tinong, who was passing in a carretela with his wife and
two daughters.
As they went down off the bridge the horses broke into a trot along the
Sabana Drive.[47] On the left the Arroceros Cigar Factory resounded
with the noise of the cigar-makers pounding the tobacco leaves, and
Ibarra was unable to restrain a smile as he thought of the strong odor
which about five o'clock in the afternoon used to float all over the
Puente de Barcas and which had made him sick when he was a child. The
lively conversations and the repartee of the crowds from the cigar
factories carried him back to the district of Lavapies in Madrid,
with its riots of cigar-makers, so fatal for the unfortunate policemen.
Pages:
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195