"I must go and fetch my family from the theatre. Until to-morrow, and a good night's rest to you, Gonzalo."
"Until to-morrow—kind regards to all."
Then the Señor de las Cuevas and his nephew went on together to their house; and the traveler had to undergo a torrent of questions not relative to his visit to England, but concerning particulars of the voyage home.
"What wind did you have? Pretty blusterous, eh? I suppose it hardly sank once? The ship didn't pitch much, eh? She was well loaded. You never sailed with all that canvas, eh? You had to reef on leaving Liverpool, eh? I know the course well."
Gonzalo replied to the questions in an absent-minded manner, for he really hardly took them in, as he was walking along in a state of abstraction, with his head down.
"What is the matter, Gonzalito? You seem low-spirited."
"I? Bah! no, señor."
"I know you are."
They proceeded some distance in silence, and Don Melchor, striking his forehead, exclaimed:
"I know what it is!"