Carmen | Page 2

I to myself, "what could he do with my shirts and
my Elzevir edition of Caesar's Commentaries?" So I bestowed a
friendly nod on the man with the blunderbuss, and inquired, with a
smile, whether I had disturbed his nap. Without any answer, he looked
me over from head to foot. Then, as if the scrutiny had satisfied him, he
looked as closely at my guide, who was just coming up. I saw the guide
turn pale, and pull up with an air of evident alarm. "An unlucky
meeting!" thought I to myself. But prudence instantly counselled me

not to let any symptom of anxiety escape me. So I dismounted. I told
the guide to take off the horses' bridles, and kneeling down beside the
spring, I laved my head and hands and then drank a long draught, lying
flat on my belly, like Gideon's soldiers.
Meanwhile, I watched the stranger, and my own guide. This last
seemed to come forward unwillingly. But the other did not appear to
have any evil designs upon us. For he had turned his horse loose, and
the blunderbuss, which he had been holding horizontally, was now
dropped earthward.
Not thinking it necessary to take offence at the scant attention paid me,
I stretched myself full length upon the grass, and calmly asked the
owner of the blunderbuss whether he had a light about him. At the
same time I pulled out my cigar-case. The stranger, still without
opening his lips, took out his flint, and lost no time in getting me a light.
He was evidently growing tamer, for he sat down opposite to me,
though he still grasped his weapon. When I had lighted my cigar, I
chose out the best I had left, and asked him whether he smoked.
"Yes, senor," he replied. These were the first words I had heard him
speak, and I noticed that he did not pronounce the letter s* in the
Andalusian fashion, whence I concluded he was a traveller, like myself,
though, maybe, somewhat less of an archaeologist.
* The Andalusians aspirate the s, and pronounce it like the soft c and
the z, which Spaniards pronounce like the English th. An Andalusian
may always be recognised by the way in which he says senor.
"You'll find this a fairly good one," said I, holding out a real Havana
regalia.
He bowed his head slightly, lighted his cigar at mine, thanked me with
another nod, and began to smoke with a most lively appearance of
enjoyment.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, as he blew his first puff of smoke slowly out of his
ears and nostrils. "What a time it is since I've had a smoke!"

In Spain the giving and accepting of a cigar establishes bonds of
hospitality similar to those founded in Eastern countries on the
partaking of bread and salt. My friend turned out more talkative than I
had hoped. However, though he claimed to belong to the partido of
Montilla, he seemed very ill-informed about the country. He did not
know the name of the delightful valley in which we were sitting, he
could not tell me the names of any of the neighbouring villages, and
when I inquired whether he had not noticed any broken-down walls,
broad-rimmed tiles, or carved stones in the vicinity, he confessed he
had never paid any heed to such matters. On the other hand, he showed
himself an expert in horseflesh, found fault with my mount--not a
difficult affair--and gave me a pedigree of his own, which had come
from the famous stud at Cordova. It was a splendid creature, indeed, so
tough, according to its owner's claim, that it had once covered thirty
leagues in one day, either at the gallop or at full trot the whole time. In
the midst of his story the stranger pulled up short, as if startled and
sorry he had said so much. "The fact is I was in a great hurry to get to
Cordova," he went on, somewhat embarrassed. "I had to petition the
judges about a lawsuit." As he spoke, he looked at my guide Antonio,
who had dropped his eyes.
The spring and the cool shade were so delightful that I bethought me of
certain slices of an excellent ham, which my friends at Montilla had
packed into my guide's wallet. I bade him produce them, and invited
the stranger to share our impromptu lunch. If he had not smoked for a
long time, he certainly struck me as having fasted for eight-and-forty
hours at the very least. He ate like a starving wolf, and I thought to
myself that my appearance must really have been quite providential for
the poor fellow. Meanwhile my guide ate but little, drank still less, and
spoke never a word, although in