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This was Ulysses' first important journey. In Barcelona he became acquainted with his uncle, the rich and talented financier of the Blanes family, one of his mother's brothers, proprietor of a great hardware shop situated in one of the damp, narrow and crowded streets that ran into the Rambla. He soon came to know other maternal uncles in a village near the Cape of Creus.
He is always dreaming of it in Spain, where he is a Spaniard in England, where he might be an Englishman. It is not every one of us who has a home from whence his name is derived, who signs his letters with a word that is marked upon the map. Such is Cipriani of that name, who has now left the Rambla and is wandering along the deserted pier.
The morning dawned upon them in a narrow rambla, its bottom formed of broken rocks, where once had raved along the mountain-torrent, while above there beetled great arid cliffs, over the brows of which they beheld the turbaned heads of their fierce and exulting foes.
You don't seem very cheerful." "I don't feel very cheerful," the girl responded. She spoke with grave deliberation, and without moving a muscle. Emile grunted and sat down. "There has been another explosion of bombs on the Rambla," he said. "A market woman killed and two work people injured I believe one has since died. Of course a got-up affair of the Government.
It annoyed him to see them established in his country, to have to pass them daily without protest and without aggression, respecting them because the laws demanded it. He used to like to stroll among the flower stands of the Rambla, between the two walls of recently-cut flowers that were still guarding in their corollas the dews of daybreak.
And once more Hillyard's quiet eyes rested upon Baeza's face. "It is not wise that we should walk out together. There is no one here, it is true, but in the chairs outside the cafés who shall say?" "Yes. You go on ahead," Hillyard agreed. "That is wise." Lopez rose. "Give me five minutes, señor. Then down the Rambla. The second turning to the right, beyond the Opera House.
Roused for once out of her naturally slow and indolent walk, she was soon in the poor quarter and climbing the stairs to the third floor of a horrible little house, the back of which looked out on the dark slums of the quarter of the Parelelo, the breeding-place of revolutions; the district between the Rambla and the Harbour.
She had felt like that before, listening to the Tziganes on the Rambla, and it was as if the heart were being dragged out of her body. She thought of the childish story of the Piper of Hamelin. She could understand now what had made the children follow him with dancing footsteps, through street to street, on, on from dawn till dusk.
It is, for instance, known that he walks on the Rambla, but no one of any importance whatever, no one that is likely to recognise him, is aware of the fact that another favourite promenade of his is the Muelle de Ponente, that forsaken pier where the stone works are and where no one ever promenades.
While we proceeded along the coast, such of us as had been there before along with Grijalva, pointed out to Cortes the different places which we recollected; saying here is la Rambla, there Tonala, or St Antonio, there the river of Coatzacualco, the Sierra Nevada, or Snowy Mountains, and those of St Martin, the Roca Partida, or Pierced Rock, the rivers of Alvarado, and the Vanderas, Isla Blanca, Isla Verda, Isla de los Sacrificios, and early in the evening of Holy Thursday, 21st April, we arrived at the harbour of St Juan de Ulua.
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