“That we will amend within here,” rejoined Hildebrand. “Let us enter.”
He led the way as he spoke, and, followed by Don Rafaele, passed to the end of the passage, where a door admitted them into the inn. On their entry, they found themselves in a large room, which served the purpose of a modern bar. A cheerful light hung from the roof; and a long table, on which were displayed several dishes of cold viands, and divers goodly flasks, stood in its centre. Behind the table, in one corner of the room, was a fire of logs, at which stood mine host and hostess. At the moment that our friends entered, those two worthies seemed, by their looks, to be in a state of great tribulation; but mine host was revived by the appearance of two guests, and quickly proceeded to bid them welcome.
“Senhors, welcome, i’ God’s name!” he cried. Here a tremendous peal of thunder threw him on his knees. “Sancta Johannes Baptista, ora pro nobis, peccatoribus!” he added.
“Sancta Maria, ora pro nobis!” exclaimed his wife, also falling on her knees.
The thunder was, indeed, awful, and shook the very house. As it roared over his head, Don Rafaele, whether from terror, or the higher impulse of devotion, was almost inclined to follow the example of mine host and hostess, and fall on his knees in prayer. While he yet hesitated, however, Hildebrand caught him by the arm, and led him forward to the fire.
The thunder ceased as they came up to the fire; and mine host and hostess, somewhat assured by their seeming composure, and more by the cessation of the thunder, began to collect themselves. Slowly rising to his feet, mine host turned to his guests once more.
“A right dread peal that, Senhors,” he remarked, in tremulous accents. “Good St. Jago defend us! What would you, now, to keep up your hearts withal?”
“A good bowl of warm Oporto, Senhor host,” answered Hildebrand. “Prithee, let it be hot, now, and stint not the lemon and spice; for, by my troth, they give it a most heartening savour. Despatch, despatch, good host! and thou mayst then set cups for thyself and spouse.”
“Will I?” rejoined mine host. “’Tis done!”
And though, literally speaking, it was not yet done, the bowl of mulled port did appear speedily, steaming hot. While Hildebrand discussed a cup of it, he meditated how he should discover, by oblique and indirect inquiries, that information respecting the armada which he had come to seek. Before he could resolve what course to pursue in the matter, however, mine host, rendered loquacious by the wine, proceeded to satisfy his curiosity spontaneously.