w boots, and finally, the hoarse, mocking words which they
generally utter, give them a strange and repulsive aspect, half serious,
half-comic. There is in their air an indescribable something of the
stiffness of diplomats. At times they remind one of buffoons, and they
always resemble those absurdly conceited people who, in their desire to
appear very superior, look like caricatures.

The Penitentiary was very fond of the parrot. When he left Dona Perfecta
and Rosario conversing with the traveller, he went over to the bird,
and, allowing it to bite his forefinger with the greatest good humor,
said to it:

"Rascal, knave, why don't you talk? You would be of little account if
you weren't a prater. The world of birds, as well as men, is full of
praters."

Then, with his own venerable hand, he took some peas from the dish
beside him, and gave them to the bird to eat. The parrot began to call
to the maid, asking her for some chocolate, and its words diverted the
two ladies and the young man from a conversation which could not have
been very engrossing.

CHAPTER VI

IN WHICH IT IS SEEN THAT DISAGREEMENT MAY ARISE WHEN LEAST EXPECTED

Suddenly Don Cayetano Polentinos, Dona Perfecta's brother-in-law,
appeared at the door, and entering the room with outstretched arms,
cried:

"Let me embrace you, my dear Don Jose."

They embraced each other cordially. Don Cayetano and Pepe were already
acquainted with each other, for the eminent scholar and bibliophile was
in the habit of making a trip to Madrid whenever an executor's sale of
the stock of some dealer in old books was advertised. Don Cayetano was
tall and thin, of middle age, although constant study or ill-health
had given him a worn appearance; he expressed himself with a refined
correctness which became him admirably, and he was affectionate and
amiable in his manners, at times to excess. With respect to his vast
learning, what can be said but that he was a real prodigy? In Madrid his
name was always mentioned with respect, and if Don Cayetano had lived
in the capital, he could not have escaped becoming a member, in spite of
his modesty, of every academy in it, past, present, and to come. But he
was fond of quiet and retirement, and the place which vanity occupies
in the souls of others, a pure passion for books, a love of solitary and
secluded study, without any other aim or incentive than the books and
the study themselves, occupied in his.

He had formed in