"You do not think he has recognised you, too? Seen you, though unseen himself, while we have been in this house, passing through these passages and corridors? as I doubt not either he saw me, or that negro of his."
He thought a moment after I said this, then suddenly emerged from his meditation and laughed a bright, ringing laugh, such as I had learnt to love the hearing of.
"Nay," he replied. "Nay," and still he laughed, "He has not--could not recognise me. No! No! No! When I present myself to him he--will--he will be astonished."
And once more he laughed.
What a strange creature it was, I thought. As brave as a young lion; as emotional and variable as a woman.
In answer to our pealing at the bell, to our calls also, the landlord came in at last, not hurrying himself at all, as it seemed to us, to bring the bill. Indeed, we had observed him, as we looked forth from the window, engaged in a conversation with two of the townspeople--shrouded in the long cloaks which Spaniards wear--their heads as close together as if they were concocting a crime, though, doubtless, talking of nothing more important than the weather.
"The bill," I said, "the bill. Quick. Our horses await us, and we have far to ride."
"Ay," he replied. "Ay," and flinging down a filthy piece of paper on the table, added: "There is the bill"; and he stood drumming his fingers on the table while I felt for the coins with which to pay it. Yet, even as I did so, I noticed that the fellow's manner was quite changed from what it had been hitherto. His obsequiousness of the morning had turned to morose surliness, which he took no trouble to conceal. And, wondering if Juan, who was standing by, fastening his spur strap, had observed the same thing, I glanced at him and saw his eyes fixed on the man.
"There are two pistoles," I said, flinging them on the table. "They will more than pay our addition; give the rest to the servants."
"Ay!" he replied. "Ay!" but with no added word of thanks.