"'What the devil is the meaning of all this?' thought I; and indignantly pushed my horse right through them. On this the cries redoubled, and the crowd increased so fast, that I was fain to ride at a trot towards the house of a guantero (a maker of those gloves for which Ciudad Real is famous throughout Spain), on whom I had been billeted. There I found Darby Crogan awaiting me, breathless, exasperated, and carbine in hand, for he, too, had been followed in the same manner by a mob, who shouted, yelled, threw mud, stones, and rotten melons, with every missile which the uncleaned streets so readily afforded. We were perfectly at a loss to comprehend the cause of treatment so unusual and so unmerited.
"'El guantero, our patron, is as cross as two sticks, or a bag of ould nails, devil mend him! and unless your honour has a coin about you, it's but a cowld supper we'll have,' said Crogan, as we entered the sala, or principal apartment of the house.
"'I have not had a peseta since we left Mora,' said I; 'but here is the patron at supper, on a cold fowl, too! we are just in time.'
"'Sure he'll ask us to ate wid him—Och! for the smallest taste in life!' sighed poor Darby, for our food had been principally roasted castanos during the two previous days, so miserably was the Spanish commissariat conducted. The patron was certainly at supper; but, instead of welcoming us to his house as the deliverers of Spain, who had driven the usurper from Torres Vedras to the Douro, from the Douro to the Ebro, and from thence towards the Pyrenees, he barely bestowed a bow upon us, and desired his servant to conduct me to one room and Crogan to another. Amazed at the coldness of this reception within, which corresponded so exactly with the ungenerous treatment of the mob without, a storm of indignation gathered in my heart; but being aware that a strong Spanish garrison occupied the citadel, and that the Dons were lads who did not stand on trifles, I pocketed my wrath and turned away, resolving on the morrow to discover Donna Emerenciana and la nina Estella.
"'Blue blazes!' grumbled Darby; 'are we not to have a ration of something to-night? Lord, sir, you don't know how hungry I am, for the two insides o' me are sticking together. I wish we had hould of that darling pullet.'
"'So do I, Crogan, and that the old guantero had hold of the horns of the moon.'
"'Wid his fingers well greased, the ould thief! Never mind, sir, wait till they're all asleep, and if I lave a place unransacked, I am not the boy of ould Widdy Crogan, at the four cross-roads.'
"The sulky looks of the glover were reflected by those of his wife and servant, a buxom Basque woman, who wore her coal-black hair plaited into one long tail, which overhung her thick woollen petticoat of bright yellow. Her stockings were scarlet; and I saw Crogan squinting at her well-turned ankles, cased in their neat leather abarcas, as she tripped before us, up the steep wooden stair that led to my apartment. The brown-cheeked Basque bade us 'good-night,' in bad Spanish, set down the light, and on being told that one room would do for the soldier and myself, withdrew. Crogan placed a few chairs against the door, and near them lay down on the floor, with his carbine loaded and half-cocked. Without undressing, I threw myself on the bed, with my drawn sword beside me, for the uproar still continued in the street; but long before its din had died away, we were both buried in profound sleep—the deep and dreamless slumber of long weariness and toil.
"From this happy state I was aroused about midnight by a loud noise. Sword in hand, I sprang up, and Darby's promise to overhaul the patron's pantry flashed upon my mind. But, lo! a lantern glared into my eyes; and I saw the brown uniforms, red facings, silver epaulettes, bronzed features, and enormous mustaches of several Spanish officers, who surrounded me with drawn swords. Among them I recognised Don José Gonzalez y Llano, the town-major, by whose orders I was roughly seized and disarmed. The lantern was held rudely before my face, then to my belt-plate and the buttons of my coat.
"'The seventy-first regimento infanteria de Escotos,' said one.