Hall relaxed in one of the low-slung chairs while Pepe went to the rear part of the house. "He's not on the couch in his office," Pepe said. He went to the foot of the stairs leading into the foyer. "Hola! It's Delgado! Hola! Don Manuel, it's Delgado!" His shouts would have roused the dead. He turned around and winked to Hall. "Abajo Anibal Tabio!" he shouted. "Viva Gamburdo! Viva Segura! Abajo Tabio!"
Upstairs there was the sound of a book or a heavy shoe dropping to the floor. "Bandit!" someone shouted, and then a tall graying man in his stockinged feet shuffled to the head of the stairs, rubbing his eyes and cursing Pepe with a mock cantankerousness. "Bulto," he shouted. "Give a man a chance to put on his shoes. Show some respect for my degrees!"
Pepe made a low, courtly stage bow. "Forgive me, Your Eminence," he pleaded. "I am only a simple petitioner."
"Momentico, compañero." The doctor went to his room for a pair of huaraches.
"Doctor, I want you to meet Compañero Mateo Hall."
"Compañero Hall!" The doctor started to speak English. "It is so good to finally meet you. Don Anibal gave me your book on Spain for Christmas when it was printed. He spoke to me about you very highly. Please, sit down. You will find these chairs very comfortable."
"Pepe has been telling me about your co-operative."
"It is not very large. Here, try this chair. It is my favorite."
Pepe reminded the doctor that Hall was in need of his professional services. "Excuse my bad manners, doctor," he said, "but when you start to talk about your projects ..."
"He is right," the doctor smiled. "Sometimes I do talk too much. I like to talk, even when people don't really listen to me. Even in my sleep I talk. About many things. Art. Weaving. World politics. The war."