The folly of Esmeraldians especially aroused his amused contempt. He
began an oration upon Pedro Montero, keeping a solemn countenance. He
flourished his hand as if introducing him to their notice. And when he
saw every face set, all the eyes fixed upon his lips, he began to
shout a sort of catalogue of perfections: "Generous, valorous, affable,
profound"--(he snatched off his hat enthusiastically)--"a statesman, an
invincible chief of partisans--" He dropped his voice startlingly to a
deep, hollow note--"and a dentist."
He was off instantly at a smart walk; the rigid straddle of his legs,
the turned-out feet, the stiff back, the rakish slant of the sombrero
above the square, motionless set of the shoulders expressing an
infinite, awe-inspiring impudence.
Upstairs, behind the jalousies, Sotillo did not move for a long time.
The audacity of the fellow appalled him. What were his officers saying
below? They were saying nothing. Complete silence. He quaked. It was not
thus that he had imagined himself at that stage of the expedition. He
had seen himself triumphant, unquestioned, appeased, the idol of the
soldiers, weighing in secret complacency the agreeable alternatives of
power and wealth open to his choice.
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