The veedor was rendered speechless again. Pedro eyed him with great commiseration until he showed signs of recovery, then threw him into another spasm by inquiring with solicitude,
"Doth the lady pursue, Señor? If so, we will barricade the door."
Rogelio held up his hands, violently shaking his head. "No, no!" he managed to say. "Damned—numskull! Let me—talk."
"Why, talk, to be sure! 'T is what I've waited for,—to hear thee talk. What the devil dost think? that I've been standing here this while to see thee contort and strangle? I had liefer watch a pig in the colic. Proceed, Veedor, and talk. It may ease thy mind. Sensa animi tui libere profare—Latin, Señor, and it meaneth, speak freely. Prithee, begin. I listen."
The veedor had collapsed into a chair, choking with rage. He sprang up, shaking both fists at the cook, and started toward the door; turned back, and waving his arms for silence, howled: "Accursed—rattle-teeth!—hear me!—I seek a servant!"
"Thou seekest a servant!" responded Pedro, with composure. "Well, by heaven, I could guess it! And thou needest, not one, but a dozen, I should say; and a strait-jacket withal. But, infierno! is the quest of a servant so delirious a pursuit?—Now, do be calm, Señor! Hold a minute, and I'll bleed thee. No? But 't would be wise, my friend, for if thou 'rt not on the edge of the staggers, then I never gave physic to a horse.—And now thou'rt swearing again! Fie, Veedor! Here! Let me get thee a wet rag."
Pedro hurried away. When he returned the veedor had regained his utterance, and waving aside the proffered application, he shouted:—
"Keep off, thou babbling moon-calf! Wilt hear me? I need a servant—at once! A servant—dost hear? A servant—and may the fiend claw thy vitals! Canst get me one—to-night? I'll pay thee well."
"Well, stew me! if the need of a servant wrought me to such a state of mind, I'd——" Pedro seated himself. "But 't is late, Veedor. Thy guest hath come, sayst thou?"
"Yes, yes! She is sick from weariness, and needeth a woman. Wilt find me one?"