"Where have I seen him before ?...

Because there is no doubt that we are acquainted with each other." From that time on, he would look curiously at all the passersby and sometimes would hasten his step in order to examine more closely some one whose back resembled the haunting unknown.

One afternoon he felt sure that he recognized him in a hired carriage whose horse was going at a lively trot through one of the avenues, but when he tried to follow it the vehicle had disappeared into a nearby street.
Some days passed by and the captain completely forgot the meeting.
Other affairs more real and immediate were demanding his attention.

His boat was ready; they were going to send it to England in order to load it with munitions destined for the army of the Orient.
The morning of its departure he went ashore without any thought of going to the center of the city.
In one of the wharf streets there was a barber shop frequented by Spanish captains.

The picturesque chatter of the barber, born in Cartagena, the gay, brilliant chromos on the walls representing bullfights, the newspapers from Madrid, forgotten on the divans, and a guitar in one corner made this shop a little bit of Spain for the rovers of the Mediterranean.
Before sailing, Ferragut wished to have his beard clipped by this verbose master.