"Aw, you're talking nonsense."
"No, it is true, the fault is with General Fombombo. I am no tippler. I am a bull-fighter. That's what I wanted to see you about. You are a caballero, and a friend of the President. You can stand up and talk to him, but he sends me off to see the bull-ring. You know, you heard him yesterday, sending me off to see the bull-ring, the moment he clapped eyes on me."
Strawbridge was faintly amused.
"Is that what you want me to see him about—because he dismissed you yesterday?"
Lubito was only slightly intoxicated, and now his anger sobered him completely:
"No! No! What do I care for his contempt? I, too, am a Venezuelan, but, señor, when any man interferes with my paternal rights—" he tapped himself threateningly on his powerful chest—"I am a bull-fighter."
"What in the world are you talking about?"
"Cá! Madruja!"
"But your paternal rights!"