The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by Vicente Blasco Ibáñez
page 47 of 502 (09%)
page 47 of 502 (09%)
|
"And how many are you able to sell, my good man?"
"About thirty thousand, sir." It was not necessary to hear more. The supercilious merchant sprang from his desk, and obsequiously offered him a seat. "You can be no other than Don Madariaga." "At the service of God and yourself, sir," he responded in the manner of a Spanish countryman. That was the most glorious moment of his existence. In the outer office of the Directors of the Bank, the clerks offered him a seat until the personage the other side of the door should deign to receive him. But scarcely was his name announced than that same director ran to admit him, and the employee was stupefied to hear the ranchman say, by way of greeting, "I have come to draw out three hundred thousand dollars. I have abundant pasturage, and I wish to buy a ranch or two in order to stock them." His arbitrary and contradictory character weighed upon the inhabitants of his lands with both cruel and good-natured tyranny. No vagabond ever passed by the ranch without being rudely assailed by its owner from the outset. "Don't tell me any of your hard-luck stories, friend," he would yell as if he were going to beat him. "Under the shed is a skinned beast; cut and eat as much as you wish and so help yourself to continue your |
|