"Yes, señor."
"Have you told Don Manuel that he must take away that rubbish in front of his house?"
In fact, he went on asking questions until the poor official came to a negative answer.
Then the loud voice of the mayor was heard all down the street, and even to the end of the town; his eyes became more inflamed, and his apoplectic face grew quite alarming. It was impossible to understand what he said. His ejaculations alone would have made his discourse incomprehensible, but these were enunciated in such a chaotic fashion that the "h" alone was distinguishable.
The scolding never lasted less than fifteen or twenty minutes; he required no less time to let off the superfluous spleen which had accumulated since the previous afternoon. Just as there are people who put their fingers down their throats in the morning to make themselves ill, so Don Roque was not happy until he had had this ebullition of wrath. He had only one interjection in his vocabulary, but this he used in such abundance that quantity atoned for quality.
The neighbors came out of their doors to hear him, but with a smile on their faces, as if accustomed to such scenes.
"Don Roque is giving it hot to-day," said one to another in a loud voice.
"See how Juan is behaving." In fact, every time the mayor turned his back the clerk put up his thumb and made a long nose at him.
Don Roque liked to come upon a road-sweeper or a stone-breaker at his work. For he would cautiously approach him from behind and, catching him by the collar, exclaim:
"Ah! so that's the way you sweep, is it!—ah! Do you think I pay you to leave half the dirt between the stones?—ah! Is this gratitude?—ah! It is shameful!—ah!"