But he is in considerable perplexity over the camera.  This he is scrutinizing very suspiciously.  We assume that a true Greek compound should pass current everywhere, if given a proper local termination, and so confidently hazard, “photo-grafia.”

[Illustration]

I still believe that the word was skilfully and philologically evolved, but it seems to fail of its effect.  We repeat it, with appropriate gestures; the official looks puzzled but not enlightened.  He inspects the lens, the bellows, the slides.  We fear for the negatives and the unexposed plates.  Prompt action is needed, for already his hand is approaching them; and boldly withdrawing the closed plate-holders from the camera we defiantly pocket them before his eyes.

A short, clicking sound caused by the act of withdrawal gives the inspector an idea.  He looks up hopefully.

“Telegrafo?” he asks.

We nod with vigor and even more hopefully, and are inspired to add: 

“Si, senor, telegrafo!  Americano; caramba!”

This has the desired effect.  The mystery is explained.  The government’s hand is stayed, its doubt vanishes; the precious scroll of chalk is made, and the plates are saved to darkness and to good works.

It is necessary to change cars at Irun.  Trains cannot possibly go through, owing to a difference in gauge,—­a difference purposely devised by moody Spain, in order to impede hostile invasion.  There is also a wait of an hour.  The Spaniard does not assent to the equation between time and money.  The lunch at the buffet in the station is ceremonious and calm; the successive courses are gravely served at its naperied tables with the same deliberation, the same care and attention to detail, as at a hotel.  It is but a short journey to San Sebastian, and in half an hour after leaving Irun we are at our destination.

II.

San Sebastian is both a city unto itself, and a summer resort unto others.  As to the latter, it is among the most popular watering-places in Spain, and is styled “the Brighton of Madrid.”  As to the former, it is a home for twenty thousand human beings of its own; it earns a sufficing competence, chiefly in exchanges with its surrounding province; and it has a monopoly of centralization over a wide region, for no other important Spanish city lies nearer than Pampeluna or Burgos.  Burgos is not actually so very remote,—­only a short hundred and fifty miles beyond; and we had spoken of a visit to its renowned cathedral.  But we had not reckoned with Spanish railway speed; it was found that the time required solely to go and come would be nearly fifteen hours!  Unvisited, we saw, must remain the cathedral within which the hot-headed Protestant missionary blew out the sacred light that had burned for three hundred years.  Owing to the Hispanian misconception of horological values, Burgos is practically, if not actually, exceedingly remote from San Sebastian.