We got our lodgings in their hut. Neither the boss nor I could habla Espanol speak Spanish, you know much then. Dry bank, nice shade, jolly hammocks, fresh fish, good game, everything lovely. The governor chucked them a few dollars to begin with; but it was like boarding with a pair of savage apes, anyhow. By and by we noticed them talking a lot together.
The Castilians, occupying the centre of the country, are what we know as "Spaniards," and may be taken to hold a middle place among these widely differing nationalities, modified by their contact with all. Their language is that of cultivated Spain. No one dreams of asking if you speak Spanish; it is always: Habla v Castellano?
There had been no sound, but he would swear that a monk stood gravely regarding them, and he rubbed his eyes. He stepped back suspiciously and then started forward again. "Look here, stranger," he remarked, with quiet emphasis, "we're after that cow-lifter, an' we mean to get him. Savvy?" The monk did not appear to hear him, so he tried another trick. "Habla española?" he asked, experimentally.
DOÑA MATILDE. Y esto de vivir tranquilos, Eduardo, esto de que nadie venga a desencantarnos con su odiosa presencia en uno de aquellos momentos deliciosos. DON EDUARDO. ¡Calla! ¿Llamaron? DOÑA MATILDE. Creo que sí. DON EDUARDO. Habla bajo. DOÑA MATILDE. Pero que.... DON EDUARDO. Más bajo. DOÑA MATILDE. ¿Quieres que abra?
Ella es obediente, sumisa, resignada; no discute ni razona nunca; calla, obedece, sirve, un mueble hermoso que se diferencia de los demás de la casa en que tiene vida; muñeca deliciosa porque habla y tiene un poco de juicio. Yo sé que este es el ideal que muchos hombres quieren, por la sencilla y única razón de que así les conviene.
Cada uno habla de la feria como le va en ella. As nothing of importance to our characters happened during the first two days, we should gladly pass on to the third and last, were it not that perhaps some foreign reader may wish to know how the Filipinos celebrate their fiestas.
"Que lenguas habla?" "Todas." "Que cosas sabe?" "Todas." "Quai païs?" "Ningun, y todos." "Qual dios?" "Dios." "Como le llamas?" "El tonto." "Como dices que le llamas?" "El sabio." "En vuestre tropa que esta?" "Esta lo que esta." "El gefe?" "No." "Pues que esta?" "La alma."
In the window was a card in Spanish, "Aqui se habla Espanol." The General entered, sure of a congenial port. In the cozy office was Mrs. O'Brien, the proprietress. She had blond oh, unimpeachably blond hair. For the rest she was amiability, and ran largely to inches around. Gen.
I'm sorry I ever learned it." This is capped on the Zone by another that is not only true but strikingly typical. An American boss who had been much annoyed by unforeseen absences of his workmen pounced upon one of his Spaniards one morning crying: "When you know por la noche that you're not going to trabaja por la manana why in don't you habla?" "Si, senor," replied the Spaniard.
There had been no sound, but he would swear that a monk stood gravely regarding them, and he rubbed his eyes. He stepped back suspiciously and then started forward again. "Look here, stranger," he remarked, with quiet emphasis, "we're after that cow-lifter, an' we mean to get him. Savvy?" The monk did not appear to hear him, so he tried another tack. "Habla Espanola?" he asked, experimentally.