But if he entirely waived the respect due to his birth, he was very jealous of his rights as a landowner.
Never was there a proprietor more proprietary than Don Pedro Miranda.
The institutions of ancient as well as modern law, the universities, the army and navy, the political constitution, and religion itself had no other excuse for existence in his eyes but that of contributing, directly or indirectly, to the preservation of his seignorial rights.
The marvelous microcosm of the universe was designed for the support of his indisputable claim to the full possession of Praducos, a hamlet two miles from the town, and to his right of an annual fee of a hundred and fifty ducats in consideration of his title to the land at the mouth of the river.
This very clear sense of his rights engendered, from very excess of clearness, several disputes. A laborer would come to him and say:
"Señor, Joaquim the martin-breeder cut to-day some of the branches of your walnut tree which hung over into his garden."
"But the walnut tree was mine," exclaimed Don Pedro, crimson with rage and surprise.
"Yes, señor, but it hung over into his garden."
"What! The fellow dared to touch anything which is mine—mine!"
Thereupon a little lawsuit ensued, which, of course, he lost. He lost dozens of these lawsuits in the course of his life, without growing any wiser on the subject.