he is an enemy of
religion. He never says Good-bye, but Salutations or Farewell. In
the same way, he doesn't say Holy Week, but Clerical Week. His great
pleasure is to find a temperament of a fibre like his own; then his eyes
flash and he begins to swear. And if he is hit, he stands for it."

"He is an anarchist, too?"

"How do I know? He doesn't know himself. Formerly, for four or five
months, he got out a weekly paper named _The Protest_, and sometimes
he wrote about the canalization of the river, and again about the
inhabitants of Mars."

The bookseller and Alzugaray chatted about many other things, and after
some while the bookseller said:

"Here is Dr. Ortigosa. He is coming in."

The door opened and a slim individual appeared, worn and sickly, with a
black beard and spectacles. His necktie was crooked, his suit dirty, and
he had his hat in his hand. He stared impertinently at Alzugaray, cast
a glance at a newspaper, and set to shouting and talking ill of
everything.

"This is a town full of dumb beasts," he said from time to time, with
the energy of exasperation.

Then, supposing Alzugaray to come from Madrid, he started to speak ill
of the Madrilenos.

"They are a collection of fools," he said roundly, various times.
"They know nothing, they understand nothing, and still they talk
authoritatively about everything."

Alzugaray put up with the downpour as if it had no reference to him,
looking over a newspaper; and when the doctor was in the thick of his
discourse, Alzugaray got up, shook hands with the bookseller, thanked
him, and left the shop.

The doctor looked at him over his glasses with fury, and began to walk
up and down in the bookstore.

Alzugaray went to the hotel, arranging in his memory the data collected.

Caesar was feeling well, and the two of them talked of the bookseller
and his friends and of Father Martin Lafuerza.

"I am going to jot down all these points," said Caesar. "It wouldn't be
a bad idea for you to go on cultivating the bookseller."

"I am going to."

"Tomorrow, you know," said Caesar. "Grand dinner at Don Calixto's. The
practical manoeuvres begin."

"Very good."

V. THE BANQUET

THE GUESTS

The table had been set in that wonderful gallery of the ancient palace
of the Dukes of Castro Duro, which looked out over the garden. The early
autumn weather was of enchanting softness and sweetness.

Caesar and Alzugaray were very smart and elegant, with crease