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Chapter 8
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GeneralMonterohadrisenwithajingleofsteelscabbardandarippleofglitteronhisgold-embroideredbreast;aheavysword-hiltappearedathissideabovetheedgeofthetable.Inthisgorgeousuniform,withhisbullneck,hishookednoseflattenedonthetipuponablue-black,dyedmoustache,helookedlikeadisguisedandsinistervaquero.Thedroneofhisvoicehadastrangelyrasping,soullessring.Hefloundered,lowering,throughafewvaguesentences;thensuddenlyraisinghisbigheadandhisvoicetogether,burstoutharshly—
“Thehonourofthecountryisinthehandsofthearmy.IassureyouIshallbefaithfultoit.”HehesitatedtillhisroamingeyesmetSirJohn’sfaceuponwhichhefixedalurid,sleepyglance;andthefigureofthelatelynegotiatedloancameintohismind.Heliftedhisglass.“Idrinktothehealthofthemanwhobringsusamillionandahalfofpounds.”
Hetossedoffhischampagne,andsatdownheavilywithahalf-surprised,half-bullyinglookallroundthefacesintheprofound,asifappalled,silencewhichsucceededthefelicitoustoast.SirJohndidnotmove.
“Idon’tthinkIamcalledupontorise,”hemurmuredtoMrs.Gould.“Thatsortofthingspeaksforitself.”ButDonJoseAvellanoscametotherescuewithashortoration,inwhichhealludedpointedlytoEngland’sgoodwilltowardsCostaguana—“agoodwill,”hecontinued,significantly,“ofwhichI,havingbeeninmytimeaccreditedtotheCourtofSt.