Everything about him was bombastic, from the heel of his old boots twisted tarnished-walking he had the intention of blowing with all solemnity [66] and rhythmically, as his gait was lilting and rhythmic might almost say, to the lens that hung over his fine aquiline nose, and which, containing no glass but because the other had fallen, gave his face a grotesque expression, sharply satirical.

I saw it coming, advancing slowly, calm, carefree, with its neck erect, head up with some insolence of tone and with his coat that was falling apart, frayed and greasy pants and hat and tie and even the cane under his arm, as well, and tried to figure out, if only by implication, the subject that brought him to the office daily.

He sat in the darkest corner of the waiting room for about twenty minutes, remained still and silent and then retired as he came, if perhaps not the steward was Luis Morel, who was the special service of the minister. If it was, the scene was a variant, as the butler was the fourth of the ordinances, gave him a cup of coffee with cookies-which he drank in silence, and slowly, and then was away with the same solemnity, and the same importance and the same cadence and rhythmic little step she had come.

The orderlies and janitors did not know him, and so I could see what looked down, reaching one, which harbored mayordomescas rivalries, to say with sarcasm:

– He’s a friend of the minister’s henchman! … Well-connected person, as you see it!