or rather from the solitary apartment which I have just described, stood a sort of shed, that served for a stable.
The only inhabitants of this delightful dwelling visible at the moment, at all events, were an old woman, and a little girl ten or twelve years old, both of them as black as soot, and dressed in loathsome rags. "Here's the sole remnant of the ancient populations of Munda Bœtica," said I to myself. "O Cæsar! O Sextus Pompeius, if you were to revisit this earth how astounded you would be!"
When the old woman saw my travelling companion an exclamation of surprise escaped her. "Ah! Señor Don José!" she cried.
Don José frowned and lifted his hand with a gesture of authority that forthwith silenced the old dame.
I turned to my guide and gave him to understand, by a sign that no one else perceived, that I knew all about the man in whose company I was about to spend the night. Our supper was better than I expected. On a little table, only a foot high, we were served with an old rooster, fricasseed with rice and numerous peppers, then more peppers in oil, and finally a gaspacho—a sort of salad made of peppers. These three highly spiced dishes involved our frequent re-
