‘I take the road to-morrow; but our contract ceased at Ronda. I had no intention of taking you on.’
‘You are not satisfied with me?’ inquired Concepçion, offering his interlocutor the cigarette he had just made.
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Buen! We take the road together.’
‘Then there is nothing more to be said?’ inquired Conyngham with a good-natured laugh.
‘Nothing, except the hour at which your Excellency starts.’
‘Six o’clock,’ put in General Vincente quietly. ‘Let me see, your name is Concepçion Vara.’
‘Yes, Excellency—of Algeciras.’
‘It is well. Then serve this gentleman well, or else—’ The General paused, and laughed in his most deprecating manner.
Concepçion seemed to understand, for he took off his hat and turned gravely away. The General and Conyngham walked rapidly through the streets of Ronda, than which there are none cleaner in the whole world, and duly bought a great black horse at a price which seemed moderate enough to the Englishman, though the vendor explained that the long war had made horseflesh rise in value. Conyngham, at no time a keen bargainer, hurried the matter to an end, and scarce examined the saddle. He was anxious to get back to the garden of the great house in the Calle Mayor before the cool of evening came to drive Estella indoors.