Que tal (how goes it)? very fine weather this - vaya su
merced con Dios. Those three fellows who just stopped to drink
water are great thieves, true sons of the prison; I am always civil
to them, for it would not do to be on ill terms; they pay me or
not, just as they think proper. I have been in some trouble on
their account: about a year ago they robbed a man a little farther
on beyond the second bridge. By the way, I counsel you, brother,
not to go there, as I believe you often do - it is a dangerous
place. They robbed a gentleman and ill-treated him, but his
brother, who was an escribano, was soon upon their trail, and had
them arrested; but he wanted someone to identify them, and it
chanced that they had stopped to drink water at my stall, just as
they did now. This the escribano heard of, and forthwith had me
away to the prison to confront me with them. I knew them well
enough, but I had learnt in my travels when to close my eyes and
when to open them; so I told the escribano that I could not say
that I had ever seen them before. He was in a great rage and
threatened to imprison me; I told him he might and that I cared
not. Vaya, I was not going to expose myself to the resentment of
those three and to that of their friends; I live too near the Hay
Market for that. Good day, my young masters. - Murcian oranges, as
you see; the genuine dragon's blood. Water sweet and cold. Those
two boys are the children of Gabiria, comptroller of the queen's
household, and the richest man in Madrid; they are nice boys, and
buy much fruit. It is said their father loves them more than all
his possessions. The old woman who is lying beneath yon tree is
the Tia Lucilla; she has committed murders, and as she owes me
money, I hope one day to see her executed. This man was of the
Walloon guard; - Senor Don Benito Mol, how do you do?"
This last named personage instantly engrossed my attention; he was
a bulky old man, somewhat above the middle height, with white hair
and ruddy features; his eyes were large and blue, and whenever he
fixed them on any one's countenance, were full of an expression of
great eagerness, as if he were expecting the communication of some
important tidings. He was dressed commonly enough, in a jacket and
trousers of coarse cloth of a russet colour, on his head was an
immense sombrero, the brim of which had been much cut and
mutilated, so as in some places to resemble the jags or denticles
of a saw. He returned the salutation of the orange-man, and bowing
to me, forthwith produced two scented wash-balls which he offered
for sale in a rough dissonant jargon, intended for Spanish, but
which seemed more like the Valencian or Catalan.
Upon my asking him who he was, the following conversation ensued
between us:
"I am a Swiss of Lucerne, Benedict Mol by name, once a soldier in
the Walloon guard, and now a soap-boiler, at your service."
"You speak the language of Spain very imperfectly," said I; "how
long have you been in the country?"
"Forty-five years," replied Benedict; "but when the guard was
broken up, I went to Minorca, where I lost the Spanish language
without acquiring the Catalan."
"You have been a soldier of the king of Spain," said I; "how did
you like the service?"
"Not so well, but that I should have been glad to leave it forty
years ago; the pay was bad, and the treatment worse. I will now
speak Swiss to you, for, if I am not much mistaken, you are a
German man, and understand the speech of Lucerne; I should soon
have deserted from the service of Spain, as I did from that of the
Pope, whose soldier I was in my early youth before I came here; but
I had married a woman of Minorca, by whom I had two children; it
was this that detained me in those parts so long; before, however,
I left Minorca, my wife died, and as for my children, one went
east, the other west, and I know not what became of them; I intend
shortly to return to Lucerne, and live there like a duke."
"Have you, then, realized a large capital in Spain?" said I,
glancing at his hat and the rest of his apparel.
"Not a cuart, not a cuart; these two wash-balls are all that I
possess."
"Perhaps you are the son of good parents, and have lands and money
in your own country wherewith to support yourself."
"Not a heller, not a heller; my father was hangman of Lucerne, and
when he died, his body was seized to pay his debts."
"Then doubtless," said I, "you intend to ply your trade of soap-
boiling at Lucerne; you are quite right, my friend, I know of no
occupation more honourable or useful."
"I have no thoughts of plying my trade at Lucerne," replied Bennet;
"and now, as I see you are a German man, Lieber Herr, and as I like
your countenance and your manner of speaking, I will tell you in
confidence that I know very little of my trade, and have already
been turned out of several fabriques as an evil workman; the two
wash-balls that I carry in my pocket are not of my own making. In
kurtzen, I know little more of soap-boiling than I do of tailoring,
horse-farriery, or shoe-making, all of which I have practised."
"Then I know not how you can hope to live like a hertzog in your
native canton, unless you expect that the men of Lucerne, in
consideration of your services to the Pope and to the king of
Spain, will maintain you in splendour at the public expense."
"Lieber Herr," said Benedict, "the men of Lucerne are by no means
fond of maintaining the soldiers of the Pope and the king of Spain
at their own expense; many of the guard who have returned thither
beg their bread in the streets, but when I go, it shall be in a
coach drawn by six mules, with a treasure, a mighty schatz which
lies in the church of Saint James of Compostella, in Galicia."
"I hope you do not intend to rob the church," said I; "if you do,
however, I believe you will be disappointed.
