Montoria rose then, wiped away the tears which coursed freely from his burning eyes, saying,-- "There is no lack of food still in town, according to my belief. Don Roque, my friend, will you not go and find something to eat, let it cost what it may?" "Yesterday I paid five duros for a hen in the market," said one of the old servants of the house. "But to-day there are none," said Don Roque. "I was there only a moment ago." "Friends, look about and find something. I need nothing for myself." He was saying this when we heard the agreeable cackle of a fowl. We all looked joyfully towards the entrance of the street, and we saw Candiola, who carried in his left hand the chicken we know of, caressing its black plumage with his right. Before they asked him for it, he approached Montoria slowly, and said,-- "A doubloon for the chicken." "What a starved thing it is!" exclaimed Don Roque. "The poor creature is little more than bones." I was not able to restrain my anger at seeing such shining evidence of the repugnant meanness and hard-heartedness of Candiola. So I went up to him, and snatched the chicken from his hands, saying violently,-- "This chicken is stolen! Come, you miserable miser, one would sell one's own cheaper! This was sold for five duros yesterday in the market. Five duros you may have, you coward, you thief, not a fraction more!" Candiola began to howl for his chicken, and was on the point of getting a good thrashing, when Don José de Montoria intervened, saying,-- "Let him have what he wishes. Give Señor Candiola the doubloon that he charges for this fowl." He gave him the extortionate amount, which Candiola was not slow to accept; and then our friend went on thus,-- "Señor Candiola, let us speak together. Now, about that wherein I offended you. Yes--a few days ago--about that affair of the blows. There are times when one is not master of one's self, when the blood mounts up to the head. It is true that you provoked me, and you charged more for the flour than the Captain-General had ordered. It is true, Don Jeronimo, my friend, that I shook you off, and you see--yet--one could not help that and--I, I believe the--well, I suppose that my hand flew away from me, and I did something." "Señor Montoria," said Candiola, "a day will come when we shall again have authorities in Saragossa. Then we shall meet again face to face." "Are you going to make it a matter of justices and notaries? That's bad. That which is past--it was an access of anger, one of those things which cannot be helped. My mind now is filled with the thought that I am in trouble, very great trouble. One does not wish to offend one's neighbor." "It is not much to offend him, after robbing him," said Don Jeronimo, looking about at us all, and smiling contemptuously.