r?"

"Neither."

"Are you sick?"

"No."

"What is the matter with you? Laziness?"

"Something like that."

Alzugaray ate alone, and after he had had coffee, he directed his steps
to the bookstore of the Republican councilman, of whom Caesar had spoken
to him. He found it in a corner of the Square; and it was at the same
time a stationer's shop and a newsdealer's. Behind the counter were an
old man and a lad.

Alzugaray went in. He bought various Madrid periodicals from the lad,
and then addressing the old man, asked him:

"Haven't you some sort of a map of the province, or of the neighbourhood
of Castro Duro?"

"No, sir, there isn't one."

"Nor a guidebook, perhaps?"

"Nor that either. At the townhall we have a map of the town...."

"Only of the part built up?"

"Yes."

"Then it would do me no good."

"You want a map for making excursions, eh?"

"That's it. Yes."

"Well, there is none. We are very much behind the times."

"Yes, that's true. It wouldn't cost very much, and it would be useful
for ever, both to the people here and to strangers."

"Just tell that to our town government!" exclaimed the old bookseller.
"Whatever is not for the advantage of the rich and the clerical element,
there is no hope of."

"Those gentlemen have a great deal of influence here?" asked Alzugaray.

"Uf! Enormous. More every day."

"But there don't appear to be many convents."

"No, there are not many convents; but there is one that counts for a
hundred, and that is the one at Cidones."

"Why is that?"

"Because it has a wild beast for a prior. Father Martin Lafuerza. He is
famous all through this region. And he is a man of talent, there's no
denying it, but despotic and exigent. He is into everything, catechizes
the women, dominates the men. There is no way to fight against him. Here
am I with this bookshop, and I have my pension as a lieutenant, which
gives me enough to live very meanly, and with what little I get out of
the periodicals I scrape along. Besides, I am a Republican and very
liberal, and I like propaganda. If I didn't, I should have left all this
long ago, because they have waged war to the death on me, an infamous
sort of war which a person that lives in Madrid cannot understand;
calumnies that come from no one knows where, atrocious accusations,
everything...."

Alzugaray stared at the bookseller's grey eyes, which were
extraordinarily bright. The old man was tall, stooped, grizzled, wit