"I am engaged in a different contest now," said Alcala, who was resolved not to let either the weariness of his frame, or the repugnance of his spirit, prevent his entering into conversation with the companions whom he hoped to influence for their good. The cavalier seated himself on the floor, supporting his back against the wall; and the chulo, who was inclined to be sociable, stretched himself, resting on his elbow, beside the señor.
"Your worship finds yourself in strange company," observed this self-constituted cicerone of the prison, lowering his tone so as not to be overheard by the ruffians around him. "Yonder, jabbering their Egyptian gibberish, is a party of Zingali: the worst punishment to them is to have a roof over their heads; the Gitano would rather lie in a ditch than a palace, boil his kettle under a hedge than feast at the governor's table. To the left there, señor, are smugglers from Cadiz; many a contraband bale has galled the backs of their mules as they moved over the sierra by moonlight. He in the red faja behind them is a highly respectable man; he merely hacked a rival to death in a combat with knives: it is strange that the alguazils should have thought it worth while to arrest the poor fellow for a simple affair like that. But yon gentleman with the bright blue jacket has earned his lodging at Her Majesty's expense; he is a brigand from the Sierra Morena, and has, I trow, cut more throats than he has fingers upon his two hands."
Alcala wondered silently for what crime his communicative companion had himself been committed to prison. Diego did not long leave him in ignorance of the cause.
"It is a shame to put me with such as these," said the talkative chulo; "I am a political offender," he added, with something like pride. "Not a Carlist, mind you, señor; I am locked up in this kennel merely for saying what all the world thinks, though not all have the courage to speak out their minds. I did but say that it is a disgrace that such a wretch as he whom the Queen has always at her elbow should be suffered to ride rough-shod over the necks of the Spanish nation, and that I wished that the nun Patrocinio would keep to her cell and leave politics alone. I did add—and I care not who knows it," continued the chulo, "that we shall never see good days till we have our exiled General Prim back again! Prim is the man to make Spain once more what she was in the glorious old times!"
CHAPTER XXIII.
PREACHING IN PRISON.
Diego was not suffered long to monopolize conversation with the new-comer. One of the smugglers drew near, and addressed himself to Alcala.