"All right, Garriehorne," said Dick, in his bantering way; "here is one of the beautiful sex--como esta senora, how handsome you look to-night; 'pon my soul, I feel quite inclined to fall in love with you. Senor Patron--what is in the crocs, old fellow?" Displeased by Dick's mode of addressing his young wife, the host affected not to hear. "What can you let us have for supper, senora?" asked Garriehorne, unbuckling his sword, "hot castanos and garlic, of course, with Xerez and ripe grapes." "Ripe grapes in November," growled the sulky patron; "what the devil are you talking about, senor official?--_Ninas y vinas son mal de guardar_!" "Which means--" "That ripe maidens and ripe grapes require vigilance to keep long," said the pretty patrona, with a waggish smile. "We have a fine guisado in this croc, senor." "A guisado!" exclaimed Dick "By Jove, the very thought of it makes me more hungry than ever." "What is it made of?" said the captain of Grenadiers, doubtfully. "Don't you know--everything! hare, rabbit, chicken, pheasant, claret and water, bacon, salt, garlic, onions, pepper, pimentos, Valdepenas butter, a bunch of wild thyme--" "The deuce! what more?" "A little oil, and then it would add glory to the wedding of Camacho," said Dick. "The senor caballero is quite a Spanish cook," said the pretty patrona; "but," she added, with a furtive glance at Dick's pair of French pantaloons, "I hope we shall not lose--" "Lose--not at all, my dear senora. You shall be paid in gold as pure as your wedding ring." "If we have it," added Garriehorne, aside. "So serve up the guisado. Its odour is exquisite! By Jove, we four Hannibals have here found our Capua! But, Senor Patron," continued Dick, speaking with his mouth very full, "you are singularly like an ugly fellow whom I met yesterday--what is your name?" "Morello." "The devil it is! that name proved an unlucky one to me lately." "Where, senor?" "At Villahoz." "I have a son there--" "Keeper of a venta?" "Si, senor." "The villain! he betrayed me to the French for ten dollars." "Likely enough of Antonio," said the young wife; "he is my step-son, and proves mala, mala--very bad." "Step-sons frequently do in a step-mother's eyes, my dear patrona." "He hates his father--" "The unnatural wretch!" "Hates him for having married me." "In that I almost agree with him," said Dick. "But he hates me, too." "Hates you--so young, so charming!" "Yes, senor, and daily vows to have revenge; believing that I have cheated him out of his birthright." "Dick, what are those fellows round the brassero jabbering about?" asked the grenadier. "Oh, they are mere cazadores, who say we should not have given up Madrid, or Burgos either, without a battle." "Faugh! don't speak of Burgos; I am sick of shelling, storming, and mining. A battle, indeed! but, perhaps, they know better than Lord Wellington."