However, it was pretty well
known that just before this exile he had incautiously gambled away all
the cash in the Custom House of a small port where a friend in power had
procured for him the post of subcollector. That youthful indiscretion
had, amongst other inconveniences, obliged him to earn his living for a
time as a cafe waiter in Madrid; but his talents must have been great,
after all, since they had enabled him to retrieve his political
fortunes so splendidly. Charles Gould, exposing his business with an
imperturbable steadiness, called him Excellency.
The provincial Excellency assumed a weary superiority, tilting his chair
far back near an open window in the true Costaguana manner. The military
band happened to be braying operatic selections on the plaza just then,
and twice he raised his hand imperatively for silence in order to listen
to a favourite passage.
"Exquisite, delicious!" he murmured; while Charles Gould waited,
standing by with inscrutable patience. "Lucia, Lucia di Lammermoor! I am
passionate for music. It transports me. Ha! the divine--ha!--Mozart.
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