"An', Senor," pursued the Cuban, "if a was possiblee you' thaughter to lo-va heem, a-wouth-a be worse-a kine in worlt; but, Senor, I"—
M. D'Hemecourt made a majestic sign for silence. He had resumed his chair, but be rose up once more, took the Cuban's hat from the table and tendered it to him.
"Manuel Mazaro, you 'ave"—
"Senor, I goin' tell you"—
"Manuel Mazaro, you"—
"Boat-a Senor"—
"Bud, Manuel Maz"—
"Senor, escuse-a me"—
"Huzh!" cried the old man. "Manuel Mazaro, you ave deceive' me! You 'ave mocque me, Manu"—
"Senor," cried Mazaro, "I swear-a to you that all-a what I sayin' ees-a"—