at the
door-bell.

"Senorito, there is a gentleman here who is anxious to speak with you."

"Confound the impertinent visit! Have you shown him into the study?"

"Yes, senorito."

Our new papa went there, taking his own time, and perfectly resolved
that it should not be a long call. But on entering the study, he had a
not altogether agreeable surprise in finding Eguiburu, the "white horse"
of _La Independencia_.

The relationship which he enjoyed with this gentleman was not very
intimate. Since he had given his endorsement, guaranteeing the thirty
thousand duros which had been spent on the newspaper, he had seen him
only twice, to receive from his hand two sums amounting to twelve
thousand, which had not been wholly spent on the paper, but had also
been used in assisting the _emigrados_. This unseasonable visit
therefore reminded him of these things, and made him anxious and
suspicious.

Eguiburu was a tall, lean man, with pale and wrinkled face, small blue
eyes, thinnish red hair, and very inelegant in his whole person. The
clothes that he wore--tight-fitting trousers of black serge, large vest,
and an enormous gray overcoat reaching to his very heels--did not tend
to give any additional elegance to his appearance.

Miguel greeted him courteously and gravely, and asked him to what he
owed the honor of his visit....

"Senor de Rivera," said Eguiburu, unceremoniously taking a
chair--Miguel, in his surprise, having neglected to ask him to do
so--"it happens that now for several months you have been in power...."

"Hold on, my friend; there is no one in Spain further from being in
power than I.... I am not even under-secretary."

"Well, well; when I say 'you,' I mean your friends; they all at the
present time occupy great positions: the Count de Rios, ambassador;
Senor Mendoza has just been elected deputy...."

"And do you think of comparing me, an insignificant pigmy, with the
Count de Rios and Mendoza, two stars of the first magnitude in Spanish
politics?"

"Now, see here; Senor de Rivera, to tell the truth, the other night in
the Levante Cafe, Senor de Mendoza was not spoken well of, even by his
own friends."

"What did they say?"

"They said,--begging your pardon,--that he was light as a cork."

"Those are the calumnies of the envious. Don't imagine, friend Eguiburu,
that statesmen are made of such stuff."

"I am very glad that such is the case, senor. But the truth is that, in
spite of their tal