Don Ramón would give them all a hearing, frowning gravely meanwhile, his
chin on his bosom and one hand on the head of the little Rafael at his
side--a pose copied from a chromo of the Kaiser petting the Crown
Prince.

On afternoons when the _Ayuntamiento_ was in session, the chief could
never leave his _patio_. Of course not a chair in the city hall could be
dusted without his permission; but he preferred to remain invisible,
like a god, knowing well that his power would seem more terrible if it
spoke only from the pillar of fire or from the whirlwind.

All day long city councilors would go trotting back and forth from the
City Hall to the Brull _patio._ The few enemies don Ramón had in the
Council--meddlers, doña Bernarda called them--idiots who swallowed
everything in print provided it were against the King and
religion--attacked the _cacique_ persistently, censuring everything he
did. Don Ramón's henchmen would tremble with impotent rage. "That charge
must be answered! Let's see now: somebody go and ask the boss!"

And a _regidor_ would be off to don Ramón's like a greyhound; and
arriving at the _patio_ panting, out of breath, he would heave a sigh of
relief and contentment at sight of "the chief" there, pacing up and down
as usual, ready to get his friends out of their difficulties as if the
limitless resources of Providence were at his command. "So-and-So said
this-and-that!" Don Ramón would stop in his tracks, think a moment, and
finally say, in an enigmatic oracular voice: "Very well, tell him to put
this in his pipe and smoke it!" Whereupon the henchman, mouth agape,
would rush back to the session like a racehorse. His companions would
gather about him eager to know the reply that don Ramón's wisdom had
deigned to suggest; and a quarrel would start then, each one anxious to