I smiled my admiration and replied—
"My friend, I find many notable qualities in your stories, but the quality which pleases me best is the modesty of the narrator."
For the first time the revolutionist flashed a suspicious glance at me, ejaculating—
"My modesty? What do you mean, then?"
"I refer," I said, "to the readiness with which you acknowledge that your appearance in revolutions has sometimes been more picturesque than dignified. Take that Nihilist story," I explained. "It seems that all that you did for the cause was to smoke a cigar in your coffin."
"But you know that my rôle has not often been so humble as on that occasion. If I have sunk low, I have also risen high. Listen, and I will tell you. I was once the President of a republic."
"You don't say so?" was the feeble remark I blurted out.
"I say so," he replied with gentle dignity, "for no other reason than because it happens to be the fact. I suppose I should still be the President of a republic if it had not been for the counter-revolution. A counter-revolution," he added, philosophically, "is no unusual incident in the history of the republics of Central America."
I nodded my acquiescence.
"Still," I urged, "it would be a good idea for you to tell the story. It exhibits you, no doubt, in a heroic light."