New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1919-02-02
Functionary: Short Story by Vicente Basco Ibane


sleep here. Send for a doctor. l need
doctor"
The journalist, despite his plight,
laughed heartily at the feminine, ludi-
crous tone of voice in which he of the
thirty years. service to his credit begged
for n doctor
The babble of voices was heard anew;
they parleyed as if taking counsel; then
steps were audible, approaching gradu-
ally nearer and the door of the Sala de
Pojitacos was opened, and gold braided
cap appeared in the doorway
"Don JUAN" said the guard, with
( certain Difference, tonight you will have
company. You will pardon me,
but it is not my fault; necessity.
Tomorrow the chief will arrange matters
differently. Go in, senor."
And the senior (the word had been
spoken with ironical accent) crossed the
threshold, followed by two prisoners;
one carried a valise and bundle of
blankets and canes; the other held a
bag, whose canvas showed the outlines
of a wide, small case.
Good evening, caballero."
His greetings were humble, in that
same trembling voice that had provoked
Yahez's laughter, and as he removed his
hat he revealed a small head white, and
carefully cropped. He was a corpulent
fellow of about fifty, ford in counte-
nance; his cape seemed to fall from his
shoulders, and bunch of watch charms,
hanging from a thick gold chain, tinkled
across his paunch at the slightest move
ment His narrow eyes shone with the
blue reflection of steel, and his mouth
seemed to be oppressed by a curled mus
tache, whose ends resembled question
marks.
"You will excuse me-" he said taking
seat Il am going to inconvenience
you very much; but it's not my fault
l came by train this evening and the
first thing ] know they give me for a
bedroom a garnet full of rats Such
trip"
Are you prisoner"
AT this moment, yes" he said, smil-
ing. "But I'll not trouble you greatly
with my company
And the heavy paunched citizen
assumed an obsequious attitude, humble,
as if begging pardon for having usurped
his place in the prison
Yanez eyed him closely; so much tim
idity amazed him. Who could this fellow
be? And through his Imagination there
danced irrelevant ideas, scarcely intclli-
glble, which seemed to seek and pursue
one another so as to complete thought
Soon, as the plaintive paternoster
sounded again from afar, the journalist
drew himself nervously together, as if
he had just trapped the elusive idea, and
he fixed his gaze upon the sack that lay
at the feet of the recent arrival
what are you carrying there? Is
that your kit of tools?"
The man seemed to hesitate, but at
last, compelled by the energetic earnest
ness of the question, he nodded his head
affirmatively. Then followed long and
painful silence Some prisoners placed
the mans bed III corner of the hall.
Yanez eyed his roommate intently; the
1tlIOW SGlll SdJ Win lowered HcdU, aS IL
avoiding his glances.
When the bed had been made and the
prisoners left the room, the door being
closed on the outside by the guard, the
| painful silence was resumed. At length
the newcomer made an effort and spoke.
II am going to give you a bad night
of it; but it's not my fault. They brought
me here. / objected, knowing that you
are decent person who will resent my
company as the worst this house could
have offered you"
The young man was disarned by such
deep humility
"No, senior. Pm accustomed to every
thing" he replied, ironically. "Such ex-
cellent friendships are made in this house
that one more makes little difference!
Besides, you don't seem to be bad sort"
And the journalist, who had not yet
weaned himself from his first romantic
novels, found the interview very original,
and even felt certain satisfaction.
81 live in Barcelona" continued the