"What fixes your attention on that spot," she asked.
"Do you see where the earth shows, by its color differing from the adjacent soil, that it has been turned up not long since? Thousands of Britons, Portuguese, and French are buried there. They met but to contend, yet now lie peaceably together. I have more than one friend among them."
Mrs. Shortridge put her hand before her eyes, and Lady Mabel turned pale as she gazed earnestly below. "Come," she said, at length, "we have seen enough of bloody Badajoz. There are some feelings that may well kill the idle curiosity that led us hither."
Descending into the town, they walked into the great square, their party attracting much attention from several groups of citizens and of soldiers of the garrison. Captain Don Alonso Melendez stopped them here to point out various objects of interest, being evidently anxious to display himself as the patron and intimate of these distinguished strangers. He brought forward and presented to them two or three more of his brother officers whom he here met.
While he was thus engaged with others of the party, Lady Mabel found leisure to remark to Cranfield: "Short as is the distance from Elvas to Badajoz, I fancy I can perceive, without listening to the language around me, that I am among a new people."
"You may well be struck with the language," said Cranfield, "while listening to our patronizing friend here. But you must not take his discourse for a fair sample of Spanish style or facts."
"Of course not," said Lady Mabel. "Eloquence and intelligence like his are rare everywhere."
"I trust they are," said Cranfield, with a sneer. "But there is already an obvious difference observable here in the people, which becomes more marked as you proceed toward Castile. The Spaniard is taller and yet leaner than the Portuguese. He has a more expressive countenance, a striking sedateness of carriage, and a settled gravity of manner, especially when silent, which makes him seem wiser than he is. With much elegance of form, his meagre person shows that he is the denizen of a dry climate, which, every Spaniard will tell you, gives a peculiar compactness of structure to all its products: the wheat of Spain makes more bread, its beef and mutton are more nourishing, its wines have more body, and the men more enduring vigor than those of other countries. Certain it is that Spanish troops have often proved great marchers; yet of all nations they have the slenderest legs, and indeed they never use their own when they can substitute those of horse, mule, or burro."
"The heat of the climate discourages exercise on foot," said Lady Mabel.
"Or labor of any kind," said Cranfield. "The universal cloak sufficiently proves that they are not a working people."