Some weeks later, returning from the National Library, Martinez
Ruiz, whom I knew by sight, came up to me on the Recoletos.
"Are you Baroja?" he asked.
"Yes."
"I am Martinez Ruiz."
We shook hands and became friends.
In those days we travelled about the country together, we contributed to
the same papers, and the ideas and the men we attacked were the same.
Later, Azorin became an enthusiastic partisan of Maura, which appeared
to me particularly absurd, as I have never been able to see anything but
an actor of the grand style in Maura, a man of small ideas. Next he
became a partisan of La Cierva, which was as bad in my opinion as being
a Maurista. I am unable to say at the moment whether he is contemplating
any further transformations.
But, whether he is or not, Azorin will always remain a master of
language to me, besides an excellent friend who has a weakness for
believing all men to be great who talk in a loud voice and who pull
their cuffs down out of their coat sleeves with a grand gesture whenever
they appear upon the platform.
PAUL SCHMITZ
Another friendship which I found stimulating was that of Paul Schmitz, a
Swiss from Basle, who had come to Madrid because of some weakness of the
lungs, spending three years among us in order to rehabilitate himself.
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