L’Institut Français de Madrid

            I have been working for a time in the lottery’s state’s bets administration my parents owned, putting stamps on the bets and paying prizes, I was busy during the day, in the morning and evening. I had there not time to read and write, although I worked very pleased, for I indeed was very exigent and chose authors and titles to read before and after diner, and I also used to write, almost exclusively about Revolution.

            With respect to the job, I cannot say much, it was routine but entertaining, the administration got full of people the days before the bets. Regarding Letters what I did was to ask my parents to pay me a French course in the mornings at Non Plus Ultra Academy at Paseo de Recoletos and I had been going there for a year. I had studied French during my Baccalaureate and I felt the itching to know more. I told my parents I wanted to follow another course at Madrid’s Institut Français. I was very lucky they paid it to me. I did a level test.

            First day about ten people joined in the group, most of them girls, with the teacher they had assigned us. She asked us to introduce ourselves in order. After saying each of us the names the teacher commented something with sympathy to oblige us to speak back. When it was my turn I said: My name is Leopoldo and I want to learn French. The teacher played a joke to me asking me if I had given up doing what I was in the mood to with cars and to getting money from the corners. l told her I had not. Just beside me was a stiff woman who said while touching affectedly her hair her name was Rosa Álvarez Cascos and that she was responsible of an Art Gallery.

            I knew by newspapers someone Álvarez Cascos had been appointed general secretary of the PP a few days ago. During break we had been speaking in the corridor among mates, and we talked about collections finally, for a mate, descendant of Colón the Descubridor, was a collector. I intervened to say I had had a stall at the Rastro with some friends, but a friend of the descendant argued this collected important things only. So ridiculous it was I decided not to say anything more about it. Such Álvarez Cascos strutted absurdly, like always that someone struts, and she used a voice’s tone that might be heard all throughout the corridor. At a given time she joined our group to promote the gallery selectively. The cloying of so much misery moved me to rebel, and as she could not wait such a question, I did not contain. I asked her:

            -Does someone go to the gallery to see you?

            She went mute at a strike and on realizing my intention she reacted this way:

            -What do you say?-, she asked airily.

            -What do you say!, she says!- said I.

        -What did you say? she asked me trying to surpass me with a half movement of her index.

           -Clear it is- I said to her with my index above her head. –I have asked you if someone goes to the gallery to see you and you answered: What do you say?

           She remained in confusion looking at me and at that moment we had to come back to the classroom. I came into the classromm telling everybody out loud:               -What do you say? she says herself. Well, she says no other but what do you say!