"I'll think of it; I'll think of it, as soon as I'm disengaged. But there's somebody waiting outside. A Mexican gentleman, my _aide-de-camp_ tells me. I wonder what _he_ wants. Safeguard, I suppose, or some other favour. These people pester the life out of me. They think I've nothing to do but to look after every little affair that troubles them. If one of our scamps only steals a chicken, they must see _me_ about it. God knows I've given them protection enough--more than they've been accustomed to at the hands of their own officers!" And God did know it: for the statement was strictly true. However contemptible I might esteem General Scott's military talents, I can bear testimony to the fact, that his enemies had no cause to complain of his inhumanity. Never was conquered foe treated with such leniency as were the Mexicans during that memorable campaign; which I do not hesitate to pronounce the most _civilised_ that has found place upon the page of history. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ I had made my salute, and was about stepping out of the "presence," when I heard the command, "Stay, sir!" In obedience to it, I once more faced towards the commander-in-chief. "By the way," he said, "I may want you for a minute. I'm told you speak Spanish perfectly?" "Not perfectly, general. I speak it, as the Spaniards say, _un pocito_." "Never mind how--so long as you can hold a conversation in it. Now that I think of it, my interpreter is out of the way; and there's none of my _aides_ knows anything of their lingo. The Mexican who's coming in is not likely to understand a syllable I might say to him. So stay, and translate for us." "At your command, general, I'll do the best I can." "You may prepare yourself, I suppose, to hear of a hen roost having been robbed; and a claim for compensation. Ah! the claimant is there." The door at that moment was opened from the outside; and one of the _aides_ entered, ushering a stranger, who stepped briskly in after him. CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. A BEREAVED PARENT. The individual thus introduced had all the air of one who had sustained a loss--but of a much graver kind than the stealing of his chicks. At a glance I could see that he was a Spanish-American of the pure Iberian blood--the boasted _sangre azul_ of Andalusia--without any trace of the Aztecan. Perhaps a Spaniard resident in Mexico--in other words, a _Gachupino_? He had, at all events, the distinguished bearing of the hidalgo; which was further confirmed by the fineness of his habiliments, that differed very little from what might be seen on a well-dressed English gentleman of the old school: for the stranger was a man of advanced age. He was clean shaven, without moustache or whisker; the hair upon his head short-cut and snow-white; while that upon his arched eyebrows was as black as it might have been at the age of twenty!