"And suppose Caro had turned his back upon him?" we inquired. Loretta blushed.
"Señor, I should have been angry with Caro: and I should have had compassion upon Lorenzo. But Caro had too much sense, and knew Lorenzo was to be its master. He is a carpenter, señor, and has a good trade. There is your carriage already waiting."
"Ah, Loretta, you should have told us this story before. We should not have refused your donkeys. It would be an honour to ride the wise and gentle Caro."
"Another time, señor. You will be coming again, then you shall have Caro, though twenty others fought for him. No one comes to Poblet once without coming a second time. You will see."
As Loretta had said, the carriage was waiting. The carriage, save the mark! If we had regretted the donkeys before seeing it, what did we do now? It was nothing but a country cart covered with a white tarpaulin, and a door behind about a foot square, through which we had to scramble to find ourselves buried in the interior. The whole concern was only fit for a museum of antiquities, like the Tarragona victoria. But the thing was done, and we had to make the best of it.
Passing through the streets, we came upon more men pressing out the grapes. It was a much larger affair than that of Lerida, and the juice poured out in a rich red stream. Four strong men were at work.
We stopped the cart, struggled out of what Francisco called the cat-hole, and watched the process. It was a case of mutual interest. The men had their heads bound round with handkerchiefs. The thoroughfare was the end of the town, wide and cleanly. Altogether this was an improvement upon the Lerida wine-press, and when these men offered us of the juice in a clean goblet, we did not refuse them. This attention to strangers was evidently a peace-offering; a token of goodwill; and the loving-cup was cool, refreshing and delicious. Such must have been the true nectar of the gods.
"Almost equal to Laffitte," said H. C. "I don't know that I ever tasted anything more poet-inspiring. Let us drink to the health and happiness of the fair Loretta. Lorenzo is a lucky man."
With some genuine tobacco and a few cigars such as they had never seen or heard of, the men thought they had made an excellent exchange. We left them as happy as the gods on Olympus.