"Non, mon maitre."
"Do you see anything, sir?" said I to the curate.
"I see nothing," said the curate, stretching out his neck.
"I see nothing," said Pedro, the ex-friar; "I see nothing but the
dust, which is becoming every moment more blinding."
"I shall go in, then," said I. "Indeed, it is scarcely prudent to
be standing here looking out for the Pretender: should the
nationals of the town hear of it, they might perhaps shoot us."
"Ahem," said the curate, following me; "there are no nationals in
this place: I would fain see what inhabitant would dare become a
national. When the inhabitants of this place were ordered to take
up arms as nationals, they refused to a man, and on that account we
had to pay a mulet; therefore, friend, you may speak out if you
have anything to communicate; we are all of your opinion here."
"I am of no opinion at all," said I, "save that I want my supper.
I am neither for Rey nor Roque. You say that I am a Catalan, and
you know that Catalans think only of their own affairs."
In the evening I strolled by myself about the village, which I
found still more forlorn and melancholy than it at first appeared;
perhaps, however, it had been a place of consequence in its time.
In one corner of it I found the ruins of a large clumsy castle,
chiefly built of flint stones:
