"What would you like, captain?"
"The first thing ready: some puchero, some pepperpot—in short, whatever you please, provided it be at once, as I am in a hurry."
"What will you drink?"
"Wine, confound it! and try to find some that is good."
"All right."
"Decamp then, and make haste to bring me all I require."
"Directly, captain."
And Señor Crevel withdrew to attend to the preparation of the young man's dinner. During this time Leon walked up and down the room, and seemed to be arranging in his head the details of some plan he was meditating.
Crevel soon returned to lay the table, which he performed without opening his lips for fear of attracting some disagreeable remark from the captain, who, for his part, did not appear at all disposed for conversation. In an instant all was arranged with that coquettish symmetry which belongs to the French alone.
"Dinner is ready, captain," said Crevel, when he re-entered the room.