“Let him say it.”
“I ought not to allow such ridiculous questions to be discussed in my house.”
“What is Señor Ramos’ business with me?”
Caballuco uttered a few words.
“Enough, enough!” exclaimed Doña Perfecta. “Don’t trouble my nephew any more. Pepe, don’t mind this simpleton. Do you wish me to tell you the cause of the great Caballuco’s anger?” she said, turning to the others.
“Anger? I think I can imagine,” said the Penitentiary, leaning back in his chair and laughing with boisterous hilarity.
“I wanted to say to Señor Don José—” growled the formidable horseman.
“Hold your tongue, man, for Heaven’s sake! And don’t tire us any more with that nonsense.”
“Señor Caballuco,” said the canon, “it is not to be wondered at that gentlemen from the capital should cut out the rough riders of this savage country.”
“In two words, Pepe, the question is this: Caballuco is—”