I Was Languid And Fatigued, But Felt Little Desire To Sleep.
Antonio Cooked Our Supper, Or Rather His Own, For I Had No
Appetite.
I sat by the door, gazing on the wood-covered heights
above me, or on the waters of the rivulet, occasionally listening
to the people who lounged about the house, conversing in the
country dialect.
What a strange tongue is the Gallegan, with its
half singing half whining accent, and with its confused jumble of
words from many languages, but chiefly from the Spanish and
Portuguese. "Can you understand this conversation?" I demanded of
Antonio, who had by this time rejoined me. "I cannot, mon maitre,"
he replied; "I have acquired at various times a great many words
amongst the Gallegan domestics in the kitchens where I have
officiated as cook, but am quite unable to understand any long
conversation. I have heard the Gallegans say that in no two
villages is it spoken in one and the same manner, and that very
frequently they do not understand each other. The worst of this
language is, that everybody on first hearing it thinks that nothing
is more easy than to understand it, as words are continually
occurring which he has heard before: but these merely serve to
bewilder and puzzle him, causing him to misunderstand everything
that is said; whereas, if he were totally ignorant of the tongue,
he would occasionally give a shrewd guess at what was meant, as I
myself frequently do when I hear Basque spoken, though the only
word which I know of that language is jaunguicoa."
As the night closed in I retired to bed, where I remained four or
five hours, restless and tossing about; the fever of Leon still
clinging to my system.
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