The Torrent - Entre Naranjos by Vicente Blasco Ibáñez
page 3 of 312 (00%)
page 3 of 312 (00%)
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What a deep breath of relief he drew as he went down the deserted
staircase, which echoed his every footstep! How large and beautiful the _patio_ was! How broad and lustrous the leaves of the plantains flourishing in their green boxes! There he had spent the best years of his childhood. The little boys who in those days used to be hiding behind the wide portal, waiting for a chance to play with the son of the powerful don Ramón Brull, were now the grown men, the sinewy orchard workers, who had been parading from the station to his house, waving their arms, and shouting _vivas_ for their deputy--Alcira's "favorite son." This contrast between the past and present flattered Rafael's conceit, though, in the background of his thoughts, the suspicion lurked that his mother had been not a little instrumental in the preparation of his noisy reception, not to mention don Andrés, and numerous other friends, ever loyal to anyone connected with the greatness of the Brulls, _caciques_--political bosses--and leading citizens of the district. To enjoy these recollections of childhood and the pleasure of finding himself once more at home, after several months in Madrid, he stood for some time motionless in the _patio_, looking up at the balconies of the first story, then at the attic windows--from which in mischievous years gone by he had many a time withdrawn his head at the sound of his mother's scolding voice--and lastly, at the veil of luminous blue above--a patch of sky drenched in that Spanish sunlight which ripens the oranges to clusters of flaming gold. He thought he could still see his father--the imposing, solemn don Ramón--sauntering about the _patio_, his hands behind his back, answering in a few impressive words the questions flung at him by his |
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