“Well, if I was? You call two battalions brigaade? Pretty brigaade! Ha! ha! ha!”
“Why, some of our Brigadiers have no more than two regiments under them. What do you call a brigade?”
“Ah, that is de very thing, by——, with you. A General is nothing, because you av General for all the two regiments. Why, in the Austrian service! Ha! ha! Brigaade! You call that a brigaade?”
It was only now and then that the Colonel committed a little agreeable foreignness in speaking English; and as I knew him to be a gentlemanlike, well-informed man, and believed him to be an officer of great merit, I was not discouraged by his crustiness, the cause of which I determined to find out; and therefore letting the matter drop, I told him that if, as I supposed, he wanted the Juez de Fuéro, he must go to the river for him, as I had endeavoured to fish him out in vain.
“What,” said I, turning to his servant, “why don’t Sr. Juez come? Is he a Frenchman?”
Here Colonel Perponcher interrupted me with some warmth, and advised me to be more prudent. “These sort of things,” said he wisely, “won’t do with them, for —— sake take care; you don’t know what you may do.”
I could no longer forbear laughing at the subtlety of his ill-humour, which vented itself in this manner under the appearance of sagesse, for he had too much discrimination not to perceive that my question was calculated to spur the judge to show by his alacrity in assisting Englishmen that he was not a Frenchman, the very name of which was plague, pestilence, and famine to a Portuguese. The Colonel, seeing that I really could not help laughing, began to smile himself, and proposed that we should lodge together, to which I readily assented. The Juez, having returned up to the breech in wholesome soil, gave us the billet we desired. On leaving him I observed that my charger was dead lame.
The death of a first cousin would in numerous instances be less distressing than the lameness of one’s best horse at the moment that his services are indispensable. We were conducted to a large house with fine stables, the groom of which knew perfectly well what ailed my horse, recommended fomentation of hot wine mixed with hog’s lard, honey, and cow dung, and assured me it would be of no consequence.
I eagerly believed what he said, because if I had not I should have been unhappy all the evening, and if the fellow lied, to-morrow morning would be time enough to grieve. “Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.” Our host was a wealthy Portuguese, and had some guests of his own nation already in his house, an elderly man with his son, a youth of sixteen, very tall, good-looking, and intelligent, also, what is extremely rare for a Portuguese, speaking French very well.
The master of the house offered us some biscuit and wine, which we declined. He then asked what we would take. “Some dinner,” we replied. “Aye,” said he, “but that can’t be ready till night. Won’t you take something first—a bit of water melon or some oranges?”