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splendid creature； indeed； so tough； according to its owner's claim； that it
had once covered thirty leagues in one day； either at the gallop or at full
trot the whole time。 In the midst of his story the stranger pulled up short；
as if startled and sorry he had said so much。 〃The fact is I was in a great
hurry to get to Cordova；〃 he went on； somewhat embarrassed。 〃I had to
petition the judges about a lawsuit。〃 As he spoke； he looked at my guide
Antonio； who had dropped his eyes。
The spring and the cool shade were so delightful that I bethought me
of certain slices of an excellent ham； which my friends at Montilla had
packed into my guide's wallet。 I bade him produce them； and invited the
stranger to share our impromptu lunch。 If he had not smoked for a long
time； he certainly struck me as having fasted for eight…and…forty hours at
the very least。 He ate like a starving wolf； and I thought to myself that my
appearance must really have been quite providential for the poor fellow。
Meanwhile my guide ate but little； drank still less； and spoke never a word；
although in the earlier part of our journey he had proved himself a most
unrivalled chatterer。 He seemed ill at ease in the presence of our guest； and
a sort of mutual distrust； the cause of which I could not exactly fathom；
seemed to be between them。
The last crumbs of bread and scraps of ham had disappeared。 We had
each smoked our second cigar； I told the guide to bridle the horses； and
was just about to take leave of my new friend； when he inquired where I
was going to spend the night。
Before I had time to notice a sign my guide was making to me I had
replied that I was going to the Venta del Cuervo。
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〃That's a bad lodging for a gentleman like you； sir！ I'm bound there
myself； and if you'll allow me to ride with you； we'll go together。〃
〃With pleasure！〃 I replied； mounting my horse。 The guide； who was
holding my stirrup； looked at me meaningly again。 I answered by
shrugging my shoulders； as though to assure him I was perfectly easy in
my mind； and we started on our way。
Antonio's mysterious signals； his evident anxiety； a few words dropped
by the stranger； above all； his ride of thirty leagues； and the far from
plausible explanation he had given us of it； had already enabled me to
form an opinion as to the identity of my fellow…traveller。 I had no doubt at
all I was in the company of a smuggler； and possibly of a brigand。 What
cared I？ I knew enough of the Spanish character to be very certain I had
nothing to fear from a man who had eaten and smoked with me。 His very
presence would protect me in case of any undesirable meeting。 And
besides； I was very glad to know what a brigand was really like。 One
doesn't come across such gentry every day。 And there is a certain charm
about finding one's self in close proximity to a dangerous being； especially
when one feels the being in question to be gentle and tame。
I was hoping the stranger might gradually fall into a confidential mood；
and in spite of my guide's winks； I turned the conversation to the subject
of highwaymen。 I need scarcely say that I spoke of them with great respect。
At that time there was a famous brigand in Andalusia； of the name of Jose…
Maria； whose exploits were on every lip。 〃Supposing I should be riding
along with Jose…Maria！〃 said I to myself。 I told all the stories I knew about
the herothey were all to his credit； indeed； and loudly expressed my
admiration of his generosity and his valour。
〃Jose…Maria is nothing but a blackguard；〃 said the stranger gravely。
〃Is he just to himself； or is this an excess of modesty？〃 I queried；
mentally； for by dint of scrutinizing my companion； I had ended by
reconciling his appearance with the description of Jose…Maria which I read
posted up on the gates of various Andalusian towns。 〃Yes； this must be he…
…fair hair； blue eyes； large mouth； good teeth； small hands； fine shirt； a
velvet jacket with silver buttons on it； white leather gaiters； and a bay
horse。 Not a doubt about it。 But his /incognito/ shall be respected！〃 We
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reached the /venta/。 It was just what he had described to me。 In other
words； the most wretched hole of its kind I had as yet beheld。 One large
apartment served as kitchen； dining…room； and sleeping chamber。 A fire
was burning on a flat stone in the middle of the room； and the smoke
escaped through a hole in the roof； or rather hung in a cloud some feet
above the soil。 Along the walls five or six mule rugs were spread on the
floor。 These were the travellers' beds。 Twenty paces from the house； or
rather from the solitary apartment which I have just described； stood a sort
of shed； that served for a stable。
The only inhabitants of this delightful dwelling visible at the moment；
at all events； were an old woman； and a little girl of ten or twelve years old；
both of them as black as soot； and dressed in loathsome rags。 〃Here's the
sole remnant of the ancient populations of Munda Boetica；〃 said I to
myself。 〃O Caesar！ O Sextus Pompeius； if you were to revisit this earth
how astounded you would be！〃
When the old woman saw my travelling companion an exclamation of
surprise escaped her。 〃Ah！ Senor Don Jose！〃 she cried。
Don Jose frowned and lifted his hand with a gesture of authority that
forthwith silenced the old dame。
I turned to my guide and gave him to understand； by a sign that no one
else perceived； that I knew all about the man in whose company I was
about to spend the night。 Our supper was better than I expected。 On a little
table； only a foot high； we were served with an old rooster； fricasseed with
rice and numerous peppers； then more peppers in oil； and finally a
/gaspacho/a sort of salad made of peppers。 These three highly spiced
dishes involved our frequent recourse to a goatskin filled with Montella
wine； which struck us as being delicious。
After our meal was over； I caught sight of a mandolin hanging up
against the wallin Spain you see mandolins in every cornerand I asked
the little girl； who had been waiting on us； if she knew how to play it。
〃No；〃 she replied。 〃But Don Jose does play well！〃
〃Do me the kindness to sing me something；〃 I said to him； 〃I'm
passionately fond of your national music。〃
〃I can't refuse to do anything for such a charming gentleman； who
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gives me such excellent cigars；〃 responded Don Jose gaily； and having
made the child give him the mandolin； he sang to his own accompaniment。
His voice； though rough； was pleasing； the air he sang was strange and sad。
As to the words； I could not understand a single one of them。
〃If I am not mistaken；〃 said I； 〃that's not a Spanish air you have just
been singing。 It's like the /zorzicos/ I've heard in the Provinces；* and the
words must be in the Basque language。〃
* The /privileged Provinces/； Alava； Biscay； Guipuzcoa； and a part
of Navarre； which all enjoy special /fueros/。 The Basque language is
spoken in these countries。
〃Yes；〃 said Don Jose； with a gloomy look。 He laid the mandolin down
on the ground； and began staring with a peculiarly sad expression at the
dying fire。 His face； at once fierce and noble…looking； reminded me； as the
firelight fell on it； of Milton's Satan。 Like him； perchance； my comrade
was musing over the home he had forfeited； the exile he had earned； by
some misdeed。 I tried to revive the conversation； but so absorbed was he
in melancholy thought； that he gave me no answer。
The old woman had already gone to rest in a corner of the room；
behind a ragged rug hung on a rope。 The little girl had followed her into
this retreat； sacred to the fair sex。 Then my guide rose； and sug