Author's Note:
Okay, we are now in the second chapter of this story, and we found that two unnamed people in the last one are Mayor Testaburger (Wendy's dad, of course) and we are also introduced to a new character, our main protagonist, Stanley Marsh! Who takes the role of Don Juan Crisóstomo Eibarramendia y Magsalin.
Chapter 2: Stanley Marsh
It was not two beautiful and well-gowned young women that attracted the attention of all, even including Father Mackey, nor was it his Excellency, the President of the United States, with his staff, that the detective should start from his abstraction and take a couple of steps forward, or that Father Garrison should look as if turned to stone; it was simply the original of the oil painting leading by the hand a young man dressed in deep mourning.
"Good evening, gentlemen! Good evening, Father!" were the greetings of Mayor Testaburger as he kissed the hands of the priests, who forgot to bestow upon him their Dominican. He had taken off his glasses to stare at the newly arrived youth, while Father Garrison was pale and unnaturally wide-eyed.
"I have the honor of presenting to you, Mister Stanley Marsh, the son of my deceased friend," went on Mayor Testaburger. "The young gentleman has just arrived from Harvard, and I went to meet him."
At the mention of the name, exclamations were heard. The detective forgot to pay his respects to his host and approached the young man, looking him over from head to foot. The young man himself at that moment was exchanging the conventional greetings with all in the group, nor did there seem to be anything extraordinary about him except his mourning garments in the center of that brilliantly lighted room. Yet, despite them, his remarkable stature, his features, and his movements breathed forth an air of healthy youthfulness in which both body and mind had equally developed. There might have been noticed in his frank, pleasant face some faint traces of American blood showing through a beautiful black color, slightly flushed at the cheeks as a result, perhaps, of his residence in cold countries.
"What!" he exclaimed with joyful surprise, "the curate of my native town! Father Garrison, my father's intimate friend!"
Every look in the room was directed toward the Franciscan, who did not move.
"Pardon me, perhaps I'm mistaken," added Stan, embarrassed.
"You are not mistaken," the friar was at last able to articulate in a changed voice, but your father was never an intimate friend of mine."
Stan slowly withdrew his extended hand, looking greatly surprised, and turned to encounter the gloomy gaze of the detective fixed on him.
"Young man, are you the son of Mister Randolph Marsh?" he asked.
The youth bowed. Father Garrison partly rose in his chair and stared fixedly at the detective.
"Welcome back to your Colorado! And may you be happier in it than your father was!" exclaimed the officer in a trembling voice. "I knew him well and can say that he was one of the worthiest and most honorable men in the United States."
"Sir," replied Stan, deeply moved, "the praise you bestow upon my father removes my doubts about the manner of his death, of which I, his son, am yet ignorant."
The eyes of the old officer filled with tears, and turning away hastily, he withdrew. The young man thus found himself alone in the center of the room. His host having disappeared, he saw no one who might introduce him to the young ladies, many of whom were watching him with a few moments of hesitation; he started toward them simply and naturally.
"Allow me, he said to me, "to overstep the rules of strict etiquette. "It has been seven years since I have been in my homeland, and upon returning to it, I cannot suppress my admiration and refrain from paying my respects to its most precious ornaments, the ladies."
But as none of them ventured a reply, he found himself obliged to retire. He then turned toward a group of men who, upon seeing him approach, arranged themselves in a semicircle.
"Gentlemen," he addressed them, "it is a custom in Germany that when a stranger finds himself at a function and there is no one to introduce him to those present, he gives his name and so introduces himself. I adopt this usage here, not to introduce foreign customs when our own are so beautiful, but because I find myself driven to it by necessity. I have already paid my respects to the skies and the ladies of my native land; now I wish to greet its citizens, my fellow countrymen. Gentlemen, my name is Stanley Severn Marsh."
The others gave their names, more or less obscure and unimportant here.
"My name is A—," said one youth dryly as he made a slight bow.
"Then, I have the honor of addressing the poet whose works have done so much to keep up my enthusiasm for my native land. It is said that you do not write anymore, but I could not learn the reason."
"The reason? Because one does not seek inspiration to debase himself and lie." One writer has been imprisoned for having put a very obvious truth into verse. "They may have called me a poet, but they shan't call me a fool."
"And may I inquire what that truth was?"
"He said that the lion's son is also a lion. He came very near to being exiled for it," replied the strange youth, moving away from the group.
A man with a smiling face, dressed in the fashion of the natives of the country, with diamond studs in his shirt-bosom, came up at that moment almost directly to Stan and grasped his hand, saying, "Sir Marsh, I've been eager to make your acquaintance. I am a friend of yours, and I knew your respected father. I am known as Mr. Derp and live in Middle Park, where you will always be welcome. I hope that you will honor me with a visit. Come and dine with us tomorrow. He smiled and rubbed his hands.
"Thank you," replied Stan, warmly, charmed with such amiability, "but tomorrow morning, I must leave for South Park."
"How unfortunate! Then it will be on your return."
"Dinner is served!" announced a waiter from Café Monet, and the guests began to file out toward the table, especially the women, with great hesitation.
Author's Note:
Okay, this chapter is shorter than the first one, but stay tuned for Chapter 3!
(P.S., I gave Stan the middle name of "Severn," because that's Trey Parker's actual middle name, who Stan is based on.)