Directly outside the cathedral on the very top of the noble flight
of steps, his voice rose pompously, his arm found again its sweeping
gesture.
"Porvenir, over there on that first floor, above those French
plate-glass shop-fronts; our biggest daily. Conservative, or, rather, I
should say, Parliamentary. We have the Parliamentary party here of which
the actual Chief of the State, Don Juste Lopez, is the head; a very
sagacious man, I think. A first-rate intellect, sir. The Democratic
party in opposition rests mostly, I am sorry to say, on these
socialistic Italians, sir, with their secret societies, camorras, and
such-like. There are lots of Italians settled here on the railway lands,
dismissed navvies, mechanics, and so on, all along the trunk line. There
are whole villages of Italians on the Campo. And the natives, too, are
being drawn into these ways . . . American bar? Yes. And over there you
can see another. New Yorkers mostly frequent that one----Here we are at
the Amarilla. Observe the bishop at the foot of the stairs to the right
as we go in."
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