In the intervals, over the swarming Plaza brooded a heavy
silence, in which the mouth of the orator went on opening and shutting,
and detached phrases--"The happiness of the people," "Sons of the
country," "The entire world, el mundo entiero"--reached even the packed
steps of the cathedral with a feeble clear ring, thin as the buzzing
of a mosquito. But the orator struck his breast; he seemed to prance
between his two supporters. It was the supreme effort of his peroration.
Then the two smaller figures disappeared from the public gaze and the
enormous Gamacho, left alone, advanced, raising his hat high above his
head. Then he covered himself proudly and yelled out, "Ciudadanos!" A
dull roar greeted Senor Gamacho, ex-pedlar of the Campo, Commandante of
the National Guards.
Upstairs Pedrito Montero walked about rapidly from one wrecked room of
the Intendencia to another, snarling incessantly--
"What stupidity! What destruction!"
Senor Fuentes, following, would relax his taciturn disposition to
murmur--
"It is all the work of Gamacho and his Nationals;" and then, inclining
his head on his left shoulder, would press together his lips so firmly
that a little hollow would appear at each corner.
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