Rivera, in saying these words, trembled with indignation.
"Don't be so explosive man! why, I have not yet refused to go with you to the Presidency, or anywhere else," said Mendoza, laying his hand on his shoulder, while his lips were curved by that humble smile which Miguel compared to that of "a Newfoundland dog." "Come on! let us go this very moment to the Presidency!"
"Come on, then," said Rivera dryly, getting up.
After going a few steps his vexation subsided.
When they reached there, the President had not yet come in. Mendoza, as a deputy, made his way immediately into the office, and there they both waited, taking a comfortable seat on a sofa while the throng of office-hunters were spoiling in the anteroom. It was not long before there was the sound of a carriage under the porte cochère: instantly all the bells in the house began to jingle madly.
"Here comes the President," said Mendoza.
Indeed, in a few seconds he came into the office, accompanied by a number of deputies. Seeing Mendoza, he greeted him in the free and easy tone with which he greeted the friends who came every day.
"Well worked up, my dear Mendoza, well worked up. It has produced a very good effect."
He alluded to the speech.
Mendoza, instead of being embarrassed by the greatness of the personage before whom he stood, replied in the same familiar and fluent tone. This self-possession did not fail to impress Miguel; for he, being more accustomed to social intercourse, could not help feeling some emotion of respect before the man who held the reins of government.