"Light it, my boy, light it; you are not a yunker now."
So the young fellow took out a match and began puffing at the Havana with enjoyment, and the men then left the house together, and proceeded slowly down the street with the air of utter comfort worn by powerful-looking men after a heavy meal. They were as silent and majestic as two magnificent cedars unrustled by a breeze. The women at work in their doorways looked after them with interest and admiration.
"Who's the young man with Don Melchor?"
"What! don't you know? 'Tis his nephew, Señor Gonzalo, who arrived last night in the 'Bella Paula.'"
"He is a fine, strapping fellow."
"Like his father, Don Martos, God rest his soul."
"And like his grandfather, Don Benito," added an old woman. "What a noble, fine-looking family they are!"
At the top of a street which commanded a view to the sea, Señor de las Cuevas stopped a minute to cast his eye over the waters.
"Fine weather at sea! a slight breeze coming up! Do you see them?" he added, with an expression of triumph after a minute.
"What?"