"Good evening, señores!" he said: "we have felt ourselves somewhat unwell, and our careful physician Castillo, as also our trusty Grijalva, was solicitous on our account. But we would not put off this meeting. We love to meet our good friends, and are not to be kept from them, by slight bodily inconvenience. Men fancy us more ailing than we are. You can refute such reports. What say you, Mexas—and you, Salcedo? Is our aspect so very sickly? We know that many build hopes upon our death; but they are mistaken, and by Our Lady, they shall be disappointed."
"God preserve our gracious lord a thousand years!" exclaimed several voices.
"An example should be made," said the man appealed to as Salcedo, "of the traitors who dare spread lying reports concerning the royal health."
"'Tis too true," observed another, "that such rumours are used to the most criminal ends."
"We will sit down," said the sick monarch. And with the assistance of his attendants, he deposited his exhausted person in the elbow-chair. "Drink, my friends, and tell me the news. Give me a cigar, good Castillo. Señor Regato, how goes it? what is new in our fair city of Madrid?"
"Little is heard," replied Geronimo, "save lamentations for the indisposition of our beloved master."
"The good people!" exclaimed Ferdinand. "We will have care of their happiness."
"And yet," said a little old man with a countenance of repulsive ugliness, "there be reprobates who laugh whilst all true and faithful subjects weep. There is my neighbour, the merchant Alvaro. Yesterday he married his daughter to a young nobleman, Don Francisco Palavar, who claims relationship with the Marquis of Santa Cruz. The wedding-guests were numerous; they sang and danced, and rejoiced beyond measure. Señor Alvaro, said I, are you not ashamed to be so joyous at such a time? 'Friend,' was his answer, 'let the times wag—they are certainly bad enough, but must soon change. All things have an end. We rejoice in hopes of a better future.'"
"The wretch!" exclaimed another of the camarilla. "I know him well; he was always a negro."
"A knave grown gray in the sins of the Exaltados," cried a third.