Maria and Catherine kept on crying.
"If you had even told me that you were going to see them," said the former, "I would have given you some scapulars to take them."
"They have them already, they have them already, and blessed by the bishop of Malaga. I told you before, wife, that this war is a holy war, which will rejoice St. Ferdinand in heaven. But you are in a crying humor, it seems," he added impatiently, seeing that his wife and daughter were still shedding tears. "Why, what would you have? That they should remain here like women, instead of going to throttle those accursed Moors who don't believe in Christ, who deny His Holy Mother, and who call the Spaniards 'hens' and 'Christian dogs'? But let them wait a bit, and I'll warrant they won't want a second taste of the broth those hens will make them! They never catch a Spaniard, even in time of peace, that they don't quarter or impale him; you see that makes every Spaniard's blood boil! I don't know how I can contain myself that I don't go too, for I tell you that the soles of my feet are itching to go, and the day you least expect it, I'll take my gun and my blanket and join the camp."
"John Joseph! In the Virgin's name! Isn't it enough to have your sons there? Would you leave us entirely alone?"
"It wouldn't be for long."
"Hush, hush! God only knows how long it might be, for those people are in their own country, defending their homes, and you know that they are ferocious, savage, fearless, and valiant."
"That they are, but as far as being fearless and valiant is concerned, we
Spaniards are more so."
"And God knows what hunger and privation they are going to suffer!"
"Don't imagine it, but even if it should be so, give the Spanish soldier plenty of water to drink and he has all he needs. Why, the joy of that regiment as they went on board was plain to be seen! And to think that I couldn't have gone with them!"
"John Joseph, in the Virgin's name, don't indulge in those boyish explosions; remember, you are sixty-five years old."