_Baltasar_.—Not among the young people; the greater part of the Madrilenian Carlists capable of bearing arms departed long ago to join the ranks of the factious in the Basque provinces. Those who remain are for the most part greybeards and priests, good for nothing but to assemble in private coffee-houses, and to prate treason together. Let them prate, _Don Jorge_; let them prate; the destinies of Spain do not depend on the wishes of _ojalateros_ and _pasteleros_, {169} but on the hands of stout, gallant nationals, like myself and friends, _Don Jorge_. _Myself_.—I am sorry to learn from your lady-mother that you are strangely dissipated. _Baltasar_.—Ho, ho, _Don Jorge_, she has told you that, has she? What would you have, _Don Jorge_? I am young, and young blood will have its course. I am called Baltasar the gay by all the other nationals, and it is on account of my gaiety and the liberality of my opinions that I am so popular among them. When I mount guard I invariably carry my guitar with me, and then there is sure to be a _funcion_ at the guard-house. We send for wine, _Don Jorge_, and the nationals become wild, _Don Jorge_, dancing and drinking through the night, whilst Baltasarito strums the guitar and sings them songs of _Germanía_:— {170a} “Una romí sin pachí Le penó á su chindomar,” {170b} etc., etc. That is _Gitano_, _Don Jorge_; I learnt it from the _toreros_ of Andalusia, who all speak _Gitano_, and are mostly of gypsy blood. I learnt it from them; they are all friends of mine, Montes, Sevilla, and Poquito Pan. {170c} I never miss a _funcion_ of bulls, _Don Jorge_. Baltasar is sure to be there with his _amiga_. _Don Jorge_, there are no bull-funcions in the winter, or I would carry you to one, but happily to-morrow there is an execution, a _funcion de la horca_; {171} and there we will go, _Don Jorge_.