At the time our story begins, between six and seven in the morning one day in October, occupied a seat in the dining room of a gentleman up to fifty years old, tall, strong, grizzled, big nose aquiline, small mouth, and bright brown eyes, the ruddy color of the face, head round from behind, these characteristic signs of strong passions and strength of character. Her short hair, shaved his beard completely, wearing gingham gown cut on white pique vest over pants, denim and suede slippers. Feet rested on a chair with straw seat with both hands and the eyes took a Spanish newspaper printed on the foil common thread entitled The Journal of Havana. [13]

While reading was presented with a boy about twelve years old, dressed in trousers and shirt listadillo, coming from the back of the yard and brought in his right hand a cup of coffee, put on a plate, and the other silver sugar bowl. The gentleman, without straightening in his chair, took the cup, sweetened and began to sip and read quietly, while the servant, with his arms folded across his chest, he was standing before him, keeping in respective hands plate and the sugar. Once the potion of coffee, however, that the boy was a few steps, he said in thunderous voice: – Snuff and light! He left it running to the kitchen and back rooms little desks, then bringing a large bladder with some cigarettes [14] rolled in the background and a silver brazier with a charcoal grill, half buried in a pile of ashes . The gentleman lit a cigarette and when the boy was about to take the race again, he shouted: – Tirso!