"Well, that may be an invention; but it is true, true as gospel, that Doña Eufrasia sent Don Carlos her likeness with a complimentary inscription."
"And the regiment? Have they fixed on the day on which it is to take the field?"
"Of course. They say that the Abbot of Lubrego is to command it."
The hilarity of the assembly was redoubled, for the Abbot of Lubrego was nearing his seventieth year, and was so feeble that he could scarcely hold himself on his mule. A boy at this moment entered the shop, swinging in his hand a glass bottle.
"Don Saturnino!" he cried, in a shrill voice.
"What is it you want?" answered the druggist, mimicking his tones.
"Give me some of what this smells like."
"All right," said Agonde, putting the bottle to his nose. "What does this smell like, Don Fermin?"
"Let me see—it smells something like—laudanum, eh?—or arnica?"
"Arnica let it be, it is less dangerous. I hope it will have a good effect."