And he stood a moment motionless in a questioning attitude, with the veins of his neck so swollen that they seemed ready to burst.
"Pardon me," I replied; "your judgment does not seem favorable enough to admit of my agreeing with you. When it comes to ignorance, excuse me, it will not do for us Italians, for us who still have cities where the schoolmasters are stoned and the professors are stabbed if they give a zero to their scholars,—it will not do for us, I say, to pick flaws in others. As for superstition, alas for us again! since we may still see in that city of Italy in which popular instruction is most widely diffused an unspeakable uproar over a miraculous image of the Madonna found by a poor ignorant woman in the middle of a street! As for crime, I frankly declare that if I were obliged to draw a comparison between the two countries before an audience of Spaniards, with the statistics now in hand, without first proving my data and conclusions, I should be very much alarmed.... I do not wish to say by this that we are not, on the whole, sailing in smoother water than is Spain. I wish to say that an Italian in judging the Spanish, if he would be just, must be indulgent."
"Excuse me: I don't think so. A country without political direction! a country a prey to anarchy! a country—Come, now, cite me one great Spaniard of the present day."
"I cannot, ... there are so few great men anywhere."
"Cite me a Galileo."
"Oh, there are no Galileos."
"Cite me a Ratazzi."
"Well, they have none."
"Cite me ... But, really, they have nothing. And then, does the country seem beautiful to you?"
"Ah! excuse me; that point I will not yield: Andalusia, to cite a single province, is a paradise; Seville, Cadiz, and Granada are splendid cities."