"You must excuse, senors," said Catalina, "the very poor fare I have to present you with. The French ladrones carried off almost every thing with them this morning, and Merida will not soon forget their visit."
"Our fare, thanks to the lazy commissariat department, has been so hard of late, that almost any thing will pass muster with us," replied Ronald; "but here are dishes enough for a whole troop." While he spoke, the oak table was laid in a twinkling with a variety of covers; of which they could scarcely taste any, owing to the garlic and olive oil with which the Spaniards, as well as the Portuguese, always season and cook up their victuals.
"You do not seem to relish the pigeon, senor mio," said Donna Catalina to the major, who was making wry faces at every mouthful he took. "Try the piece of cold roasted meat on the cover near you."
"I thank you," answered Campbell, helping himself largely. "It would be excellent to my taste, was it not for the olive oil and spices, not used in our country, with which it is seasoned."
A hash and ragout were likewise attempted, but in vain; the garlic with which they were dressed rendered it impossible for the three strangers to taste them, but it was equally impossible to be displeased: the polite apologies and regrets of the cavalier, and the condescending sweetness of his beautiful sister, made ample amends. But the three hungry Scots were very well pleased to see the first course replaced by the second, which consisted of white Spanish bread of the purest flour, dried grapes, and several large crystal jugs of the purple country wine, sherry, and Malaga.
"You British are rather more fastidious than our Portuguese friends and allies," said Alvaro laughing. "The last time the 6th Caçadores lay quartered here, they left not a single cat uneaten,—a loss still remembered with peculiar animosity by the housewives of Merida. The Portuguese are not over nice in any thing, certainly, and we have a proverb among us, 'that a bad Spaniard makes a good Portuguese.'"
"Sir, when I am sharp-set, I am not very apt to be particular myself," replied Campbell. "When I was in Egypt with Sir Ralph, on one occasion I ate a very juicy steak cut from a horse's flank, and fried in a camp-kettle lid. We were starving for want of rations, senor; and, I dare say, even the holy camel on its way to Mecca, had it passed our route, would have been gobbled up, hump and all."
Ronald, who had hitherto sat almost silent, began to dread a long Egyptian story from the major; but this fear was removed by Don Alvaro's filling up his horn, and drinking to the health of Lord Wellington and the British forces,—the deliverers of Spain and Ferdinand the Seventh.
After this complimentary toast had been duly honoured, "A bumper, gentlemen!" exclaimed the major; "fill up your glasses—regular brimmers, and they must be drunk off with true Highland honours. A la libertad de España! hurrah!" and, springing up erect with native agility, the three Scots, placing their left feet on their seats and their right on the table, (a movement which considerably surprised the grave don and his sister, who trembled for her crimson chairs), they flourished their glasses aloft, and drank to the toast with what are called Highland honours.
"Viva! viva!" cried the cavalier, in applause of the sentiment, though rather puzzled at the mode of proclaiming it.