Lucia was surprised at his question.
"A free country?" she said.
"Yes; like Mexico, for instance."
"Don't you call the United States a free country?" Lucia asked him.
He almost roared his head off. "The United—Bah! Ees the most unfree country what is. Every man, every woman, is slave—slave to law, slave to custom, slave to everysing. You get up such time; eat such time," his hands went out in Latin frenzy. "Every day you work such time, every night go to bed such time. And, Madre di Dios, every week you take bath such time!" This was, to him, the ultimate joke. "An' you call it a free country! Ees only one free country. Ees one in which man does as she damn please. Like Mexico!" he ended.
The women were astounded. They had always thought of Mexico as a land of rough-and-tumble, comic-opera revolutions; a place where one must forever be on the lookout for trouble; where robbers were rife and the days were nothing but a chain of abominations. A sunny, beautiful country, maybe; but no place for a God-fearing American citizen to settle. Why, they would as soon commit murder in Mexico as go to market.
"Haven't you any laws in Mexico?" Lucia inquired.
"We 'ave—ze best," Lopez was swift to reply.