“Wait till I get a dose of your medicine.”
“True; you will feel better then. I say, city life don’t agree with us, eh?”
“You call this a city, do you?”
“Ay, so it is styled in these parts: ‘la ciudad de Santa Fé;’ the famous city of Santa Fé; the capital of Nuevo Mexico; the metropolis of all prairiedom; the paradise of traders, trappers, and thieves!”
“And this is the progress of three hundred years! Why, these people have hardly passed the first stages of civilisation.”
“Rather say they are passing the last stages of it. Here, on this fair oasis, you will find painting, poetry, dancing, theatres, and music, fêtes and fireworks, with all the little amorous arts that characterise a nation’s decline. You will meet with numerous Don Quixotes, soi-disant knights-errant, Romeos without the heart, and ruffians without the courage. You will meet with many things before you encounter either virtue or honesty. Hola! muchacho!”
“Que es, señor?”
“Hay cafe?”
“Si, señor.”
“Bring us a couple of tazas, then—dos tazas, do you hear? and quick—aprisa! aprisa!”