Don Paco, landlord of the Fonda Continental.
I. AT THE MARMOLEYO SPA.
Along a gentle slope, over which was intended to be a high-road, we descended to the spring which gushes out in the very middle of the river Guadalquivir, which comes circling around the brow of the sierra. There is a gallery or bridge which leads from the shore to the spring. Across it were gravely walking two or three persons, who, by their wandering and vacant looks, showed that they were perhaps paying more attention to the contents of their stomachs than to the discourse and steps of their companions. From time to time they hastened to the spring, descended the steps, asked for a glass of water, and drank it eagerly, shutting their eyes with a kind of pleasurable emotion, suggesting the hope of health.
“Have you been taking much of the water, Mother?” asked my landlord, leaning over the railing of the well.
A short, plump nun, who appeared to be dropsical, and had a small red nose, raised her head just as she was about to put the glass to her lips.
“Good morning, Señor Paco.... I have had only four glasses so far. Would you like a little to increase your appetite?”
That greatly delighted my landlord.
“Increase my appetite, eh? Give me something to reduce it, rather! that’s what I should prefer.... And the Sisters?”
Two young nuns, not at all ill-favoured, who were standing beside the other with their heads raised towards us, smiled politely.
“The same as always; two little sips,” rejoined one of them, who had lively black eyes, and spoke with a downright Andalusian accent, and displayed an elegant set of teeth.