"Ah, it is you, Señor de Montoria," he said, with very bad grace. "How is it that you, being a member of the committee of public safety, have not been able to disperse this rabble which has come to make this noise before the gate of the house of an honorable citizen?" "I am not a member of the committee of public safety, but of the junta of supplies, so I come in search of the Señor Candiola, and make him come down; but I will not enter this dark house full of cobwebs and mice." "The poor cannot live in palaces like Señor José de Montoria, administrator of the goods of the commune, and for a long time tax-collector," replied Candiola. "I made my fortune by work, not by usury," exclaimed Montoria. "But let us make an end of this. Señor Don Jeronimo, I have come for that flour. These two good fathers have acquainted you with our need of it already." "Yes, I will sell it, I will sell it," answered Candiola, with a crafty smile; "but I cannot part with it at the price which these señors indicated. It is too little. I do not part with it for less than one hundred and sixty-two reales for a sack of a hundred pounds." "I do not ask _your_ price," said Don José, restraining his indignation. "The junta may dispose as it likes with its own; but in my house no one sells anything but myself," answered the miser. "And that is all there is to say. Each one may do in his own house as I do in mine." "Come, look here, you blood-sucker!" exclaimed Montoria, catching him by the arm, making him jump, "look here, Candiola of a thousand devils, I have said that I have come for the flour, and I will not go without it! The army of defence of Saragossa must not die of hunger, porra! and all citizens must contribute to maintain it." "To maintain it! to maintain the army!" cried the miser, venomously. "Perhaps I am the author of its being?" "Miserable pig, is there not in your black and empty soul one spark of patriotism?" "I do not maintain vagabonds. What need was there that the French should bombard us and destroy the city? You want me to feed the soldiers. I will give them poison." "Wretch, worm, blood-sucker of Saragossa, disgrace of the Spanish people!" exclaimed my protector, threatening with his doubled fist the miser's wrinkled face. "I would rather be damned to hell forever than to be what you are, to be Candiola for one minute. You black conscience, you perverse soul, are you not ashamed of being the only one in this city who has refused all his resources to the patriotic army of his country? Does not everybody's hatred of you for this vile conduct weigh upon you more heavily than if all the rocks of Moncayo had fallen upon you?" "Stop your music and leave me in peace," said Don Jeronimo, starting to the door.