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Chapter 8
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Theprominentman(whowasthenapersoninpower,withalemon-colouredfaceandaveryshortandcurly,nottosaywoolly,headofhair)wentsofarinhistemporarydiscontentastoshakehisyellowfistunderthenoseofhisinterlocutor,andshriek—
“Yes!All!Silence!All!Itellyou!ThepoliticalGefe,thechiefofthepolice,thechiefofthecustoms,thegeneral,all,all,aretheofficialsofthatGould.”
Thereuponanintrepidbutlowandargumentativemurmurwouldflowonforaspaceintheministerialcabinet,andtheprominentman’spassionwouldendinacynicalshrugoftheshoulders.Afterall,heseemedtosay,whatdiditmatteraslongastheministerhimselfwasnotforgottenduringhisbriefdayofauthority?Butallthesame,theunofficialagentoftheSanTomemine,workingforagoodcause,hadhismomentsofanxiety,whichwerereflectedinhisletterstoDonJoseAvellanos,hismaternaluncle.
“NosanguinarymacaquefromSta.MartashallsetfootonthatpartofCostaguanawhichliesbeyondtheSanTomebridge,”DonPepeusedtoassureMrs.Gould.“Except,ofcourse,asanhonouredguest—forourSenorAdministradorisadeeppolitico.”ButtoCharlesGould,inhisownroom,theoldMajorwouldremarkwithagrimandsoldierlycheeriness,“Weareallplayingourheadsatthisgame.