"Here there are no barons and no priests," exclaimed the noble in an excess of good humour, jumping up from his seat. "Here we are only Uncle Francisco—that is I, and Uncle Diego, that is you—are we not? Your hand upon it."
Advancing with his hand extended he staggered, but kept his feet.
"Give me your hand, my brave fellow!"
The cleric was pacified, and they shook hands.
"Now an embrace for the legitimate King of Spain."
"Don't speak to me of embraces," cried the priest, again getting angry. "I recollect Vergarra's embrace, fool!"
"Don't bother yourself, my friend, for we shall pay him out.
"Ay, ay, ay! mutila
Chaplen gorria."
And he began to sing the Carlist hymn in a hoarse voice, but soon interrupting himself, he said:
"Well, Uncle Diego, sing! Give over tears now!"