Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 311: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

302 table, like any ordinary customer. He rather enjoyed doing this, and paying his peseta like the rest, while he felt, - also, the sense of proprietorship. Senora Marto was proving to be a most excellent manager. She kept her- self rather more discreetly in the back- ground than Joe would have fancied to be best for business, but in view of the generous receipts that came from her establishment, and the fact that the tables there were occupied at almost all hours of the day, he could not feel like complaining, the more especially as he knew how her Spanish pride must quiver at undertaking such _ public work. He had finished his cream and had risen from the table, when in strode Victor. Joe tried to catch his eye, but failed, for Victor, with evident obsti- nacy, looked another way. Nevertheless the late volunteer went straight toward Joe, and would have collided with him, if the American had not stepped hastily to one side. “Good afternoon, senor,” said Joe, with an assumption of pleasantness that he did not feel, for there was that in Victor’s manner which showed only too plainly that the cut was intentional. somehow, Joe, who was in most matters a remarkably good humored man, became instantly roiled. Victor wheeled about, looked Joe in- solently in the eyes, and asked: “ Did you address me? ”’ “ I belteve I did,” responde@i Joe, in- differently, “ but you are not obliged to answer, of course.” “ You are offensive, sir!’ Victor ex- claimed hotly. “ Offensive?”’ repeated Joe, and what more he might have said can be guessed by one as well as another, for Victor, advancing suddenly, complete- ly turned the current of Joe’s thoughts by bringing his heels squarely down upon the American's toe. Joe was intensely disturbed. He was sufficiently man of the world to under- stand the full purport of this insult. THE ARGOSY. Victor had sought a quarrel with him, and when a Spanish military man seeks a quarrel, it is with but one purpose: that the matter shall be fought out on the so called field of honor. Joe’s brain fairly reeled with the various impulses and considerations that leaped to light there. The fact that Victor was a member of Don Oc- tavio’s family ; that he was an irrecon- cilable Spaniard ; that he was a younger man; that business interests, common sense, and all the influences of his own early training, were opposed to the criminal absurdity of a duel; that he was nevertheless in a community where the code prevailed ; that, above all, he had been insulted. Without attempting to so much as trace the arguments that half formed in Joe’s mind, these were some of the ele- ments that battled there, and under stress of the unexpected emergency, the American’s face became deathly pale. “ Coward!” hissed Victor, observ- ing this. “ You are no better than the rest of the American dogs that come here, who would be afraid to meet the Spaniards in a fair, evenly matched fight.” " See here,’ began Joe, raising his arm with his hand open, and then he let it fall again. _It had been his impulse to cuff Vic- tor, or-to pull his nose, in token of the contempt he felt for the unreasonable insult; then his blood seemed to boil from the bottom of his heart, as he per- ceived that the insult was not only di- rected at him, but at those noble fellow citizens of his who made up the mag- nificent army of invasion. “Business be hanged!” thought Joe, “ I can’t stand this.” “Senor,” he rasped aloud, and by this time everybody in the café was looking on and listening interestedly, “I could ignore the offense you give me personally, but when vou undertake to insult my country and her soldiers, I cannot let it pass.” GOH GOOO CO