“Indeed, nothing that she did ought ever to have astonished me. I don’t know whether I was most happy or wretched at seeing her again. At the door of the house there was a tall English servant with a powdered head, who ushered me into a splendid drawing-room. Instantly Carmen said to me in Basque, ‘You don’t know one word of Spanish, and you don’t know me.’ Then turning to the Englishman, she added: “‘I told you so. I saw at once he was a Basque. Now you’ll hear what a queer language he speaks. Doesn’t he look silly? He’s like a cat that’s been caught in the larder!’ “‘And you,’ said I to her in my own language, ‘you look like an impudent jade--and I’ve a good mind to scar your face here and now, before your spark.’ “‘My spark!’ said she. ‘Why, you’ve guessed that all alone! Are you jealous of this idiot? You’re even sillier than you were before our evening in the _Calle del Candilejo_! Don’t you see, fool, that at this moment I’m doing gipsy business, and doing it in the most brilliant manner? This house belongs to me--the guineas of that crayfish will belong to me! I lead him by the nose, and I’ll lead him to a place that he’ll never get out of!’ “‘And if I catch you doing any gipsy business in this style again, I’ll see to it that you never do any again!’ said I. “‘Ah! upon my word! Are you my _rom_, pray that you give me orders? If _El Tuerto_ is pleased, what have you to do with it? Oughtn’t you to be very happy that you are the only man who can call himself my _minchorro_?’ * * My “lover,” or rather my “fancy.” “‘What does he say?’ inquired the Englishman. “‘He says he’s thirsty, and would like a drink,’ answered Carmen, and she threw herself back upon a sofa, screaming with laughter at her own translation. “When that girl begins to laugh, sir, it was hopeless for anybody to try and talk sense. Everybody laughed with her. The big Englishman began to laugh too, like the idiot he was, and ordered the servant to bring me something to drink. “While I was drinking she said to me: “‘Do you see that ring he has on his finger? If you like I’ll give it to you.’ “And I answered: “‘I would give one of my fingers to have your _milord_ out on the mountains, and each of us with a _maquila_ in his fist.’ “‘_Maquila_, what does that mean?’ asked the Englishman. “‘Maquila,’ said Carmen, still laughing, ‘means an orange. Isn’t it a queer word for an orange? He says he’d like you to eat _maquila_.’ “‘Does he?’ said the Englishman. ‘Very well, bring more _maquila_ to-morrow.’ “While we were talking a servant came in and said dinner was ready. Then the Englishman stood up, gave me a piastre, and offered his arm to Carmen, as if she couldn’t have walked alone. Carmen, who was still laughing, said to me: