The old man’s eyes filled with tears. He turned away to hide them, and moved off into the crowd.
The master of the house had disappeared. Ibarra was left alone in the middle of the room. No one presented him to the ladies. He hesitated a moment, then went up to them and said:
“Permit me to forget formalities, and salute the first of my countrywomen I have seen for years.”
No one spoke, though many eyes regarded him with interest. Ibarra turned away, and a jovial man, in native dress, with studs of brilliants down his shirt-front, almost ran up to say:
“Señor Ibarra, I wish to know you. I am Captain Tinong, and live near you at Tondo. Will you honor us at dinner to-morrow?”
“Thank you,” said Ibarra, pleased with the kindness, “but to-morrow I must leave for San Diego.”
“What a pity! Well then, on your return——”
“Dinner is served,” announced a waiter of the Café La Campana.
The guests began to move toward the table, not without much ceremony on the part of the ladies, especially the natives, who required a great deal of polite urging.