I do not like you the worse for that. But, being
so, how went you to Finisterra, where they are all Christinos and
negros? Why did you not go to my village? None would have meddled
with you there. Those of my village are of a different stamp to
the drunkards of Finisterra. Those of my village never interfere
with honest people. Vaya! how I hate that drunkard of Finisterra
who brought you, he is so old and ugly; were it not for the love
which I bear to the Senhor Alcalde, I would at once unlock the gate
and bid you go forth, you and your servant, the buen mozo."
Antonio now descended. "Follow me," said he; "his worship the
alcalde will be ready to receive you in a moment." Sebastian and
myself followed him upstairs to a room where, seated behind a
table, we beheld a young man of low stature but handsome features
and very fashionably dressed. He appeared to be inditing a letter,
which, when he had concluded, he delivered to a secretary to be
transcribed. He then looked at me for a moment fixedly, and the
following conversation ensued between us:-
Alcalde. - I see that you are an Englishman, and my friend Antonio
here informs me that you have been arrested at Finisterra.
Myself. - He tells you true; and but for him I believe that I should
have fallen by the hands of those savage fishermen.
Alcalde.
