He was an Andalusian, small and sprightly, whose escapades had brought him to Barcelona.

He usually served his customers with indifference, without taking any interest in their words and their hymns.

He "didn't mix himself up in politics." Accustomed to the ways of gay and hot-blooded people, he suspected that this man had come to pick a quarrel, and hoped to soften him with his smiling and obsequious manner.
The sailor spoke to him aloud.

He knew that in that low cafe his name was frequently used and that there were many there who desired to see him.

He could give them the message that Captain Ferragut was there at their disposition.
"I shall do so," said the Andalusian.
And he went away to the counter, bringing him, in a little while, a bottle and a glass.
In vain Ulysses fixed his glance on those who were occupying the nearby tables.