“A palace of glass!” repeated Lechuza, with his immense round eyes fixed sternly on me.
“Yes, a palace of glass—is there anything so wonderful in that?”
“Have you any tobacco in your pouch, Mariano?” said Blas.
“Pardon, Captain, for speaking, but the things you are telling require a cigarette, and my pouch is empty.”
“Very well, sirs, perhaps you will now allow me to proceed,” I said, beginning to feel rather vexed at these constant interruptions. “A palace of glass large enough to hold all the people in this country.”
“The Saints assist us! Your tobacco is dry as ashes, Mariano,” exclaimed Blas.
“That is not strange,” said the other, “for I have had it three days in my pocket. Proceed, Captain. A palace of glass large enough to hold all the people in the world. And then?”
“No, I shall not proceed,” I returned, losing my temper. “It is plain to see that you do not wish to hear my story. Still, sirs, from motives of courtesy you might have disguised your want of interest in what I was about to relate; for I have heard it said that the Orientals are a polite people.”
“There you are saying too much, my friend,” broke in Lechuza. “Remember that we were speaking of actual experiences, not inventing tales of black fogs and glass palaces and men walking on their heads, and I know not what other marvels.”
“Do you know that what I am telling you is untrue?” I indignantly asked.