"Oh, oh! You are not in a good temper this morning. What's the matter with you, that you are so bandaged up? On my soul, you must be ill. Oh! I see what it is; you slept with your window open, and have caught a toothache."
The landlord turned green with impotent fury.
"Caballero," he shouted, "take care."
"Of what?" Don Cornelio said peacefully. "Toothache is not catching, as I am aware. Poor man! Pain causes him to wander. Take care of yourself, my good man; take care of yourself, I advise you."
And without further ceremony he turned his back on him, and began again the song which so annoyed the landlord at the point where he broke it off.
"Hum!" the latter growled, shaking his fist at the singer; "I hope that you will catch something in the row. Ah!" he added, "the sun is rising: perhaps that will induce him to come down."
In fact, the sun appeared at this moment in a bed of vapour, and after a twilight, whose duration was almost nothing, the day succeeded, as it were, immediately to night.
Don Cornelio, aided by the colonel's servants, fed the horses and saddled the mules—preparations which brought a smile to the landlord's lips which would have caused the colonel to feel uncomfortable had he seen it.
Suddenly a sound of horses was heard outside, and two men trotted into the patio, through the gateway left open after the departure of the arrieros and other travellers. At this unexpected arrival the landlord turned as if a viper had stung him.
"Confusion!" he muttered; "day has hardly broken ere these accursed fellows come across my path."