“Don’t trouble yourself,” said Captain Tiago, laying his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “This feast is a thank-offering for your safe return. Ho, there! bring the tinola! I’ve ordered the tinola expressly for you, Crisóstomo.”
“When did you leave the country?” Laruja asked Ibarra.
“Seven years ago.”
“Then you must have almost forgotten it.”
“On the contrary, it has been always in my thoughts; but my country seems to have forgotten me.”
“Why do you say that?” asked the old lieutenant.
“Because for several months I have had no news, so that I do not even know how and when my father died.”
The lieutenant could not repress a groan.
“And where were you that they couldn’t telegraph you?” asked Doña Victorina. “When we were married, we sent despatches to the peninsula.”
“Señora, I was in the far north,” said Ibarra.