He Generally Kept Aloof From The
Rest, And Would Stand For Hours Together Leaning Against The Walls
With His Arms Folded, Glaring Sullenly On What Was Passing Before
Him.
He was not one of the professed valientes, for his age
prevented his assuming so distinguished a character, and yet all
the rest appeared to hold him in a certain awe:
Perhaps they
feared his tongue, which he occasionally exerted in pouring forth
withering curses on those who incurred his displeasure. He spoke
perfectly good Spanish, and to my great surprise excellent Basque,
in which he was in the habit of conversing with Francisco, who,
lolling from the window of my apartment, would exchange jests and
witticisms with the prisoners in the court below, with whom he was
a great favourite.
One day when I was in the patio, to which I had free admission
whenever I pleased, by permission of the alcayde, I went up to the
Frenchman, who stood in his usual posture, leaning against the
wall, and offered him a cigar. I do not smoke myself, but it will
never do to mix among the lower classes of Spain unless you have a
cigar to present occasionally. The man glared at me ferociously
for a moment, and appeared to be on the point of refusing my offer
with perhaps a hideous execration. I repeated it, however,
pressing my hand against my heart, whereupon suddenly the grim
features relaxed, and with a genuine French grimace, and a low bow,
he accepted the cigar, exclaiming, "Ah, Monsieur, pardon, mais
c'est faire trop d'honneur a un pauvre diable comme moi."
"Not at all," said I, "we are both fellow prisoners in a foreign
land, and being so we ought to countenance each other.
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