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' He turned away, but Don Eduardo could not risk the damage a scornful review might cause. We were in Spain, listening to true flamenco in some authentic Sevillian caft. 11 tell them they must not place posters on my wall,' Don Alfonso complained. 'It led to California Baia/ my father said grimly, and I instantly recalled what I had learned about that brutal, barren peninsula of heat and waterless sand.

All the way back to the gate the men kept up their wild shootin& and when they had ridden safely down the hill, my father deep sabre slashes that had broken the bones and sent reddish-purple blood coursing down his extremities. atter of intersecting tra- jectories, the bull going in one direction, the horse at an angle in the other. The general was not my idea of i general at all, for he certainly did not look like any of my tin soldien, with brightly