. .
Pays de barbares. Tenez," he added, in a whisper, "if you have any
plan for escaping, and require my assistance, I have an arm and a
knife at your service: you may trust me, and that is more than you
could any of these sacres gens ici," glancing fiercely round at his
fellow prisoners.
"You appear to be no friend to Spain and the Spaniards," said I.
"I conclude that you have experienced injustice at their hands.
For what have they immured you in this place?"
"Pour rien du tout, c'est a dire pour une bagatelle; but what can
you expect from such animals? For what are you imprisoned? Did I
not hear say for Gypsyism and sorcery?"
"Perhaps you are here for your opinions?"
"Ah, mon Dieu, non; je ne suis pas homme a semblable betise. I
have no opinions. Je faisois . . . mais ce n'importe; je me trouve
ici, ou je creve de faim."
"I am sorry to see a brave man in such a distressed condition,"
said I; "have you nothing to subsist upon beyond the prison
allowance? Have you no friends?"
"Friends in this country, you mock me; here one has no friends,
unless one buy them. I am bursting with hunger; since I have been
here I have sold the clothes off my back, that I might eat, for the
prison allowance will not support nature, and of half of that we
are robbed by the Batu, as they call the barbarian of a governor.
Les haillons which now cover me were given by two or three devotees
who sometimes visit here.
