"The commandments of the new law are ten, namely:
"The first. Let there be no money in Spain.
"The second. Let the world turn upside-down.
"The third. Let every one play gentleman.
"The fourth. Let not a single copper come from America.
"The fifth. Let there be no end of drafting.
"The sixth. Let the new law come from abroad.
"The seventh. Let there be fewer people that are not wanted.
"The eighth. Let them distribute biscuits in Navarra.
"The ninth. Let every one look out for himself.
"The tenth. Let all be at variance.
"These commandments are included in two:
Some say yes, and others say no."
"Tell us a riddle, uncle."
"Fifty ladies and five gallants: the fifty ask fowl; the five ask bread," said the old man, of whom nature, and the kind of life he led, had made the personification of ready and good-humored obedience.
"The Rosary! I knew that," said a little boy. "Tell another."
"The mantle of Lady Leonor
Sinks in the river, but covers the shore."
"We give it up, uncle."
"It is the snow, gentlemen."
At this moment they were interrupted by the ringing of the sunset bell, and, all rising, stood with uncovered heads.
"Will you recite the prayer, Uncle Bartolo," said the widower.