language, that occasionally we might discourse without being understood by those who might overhear us. “The very description of person,” he replied, “that you appear to be in need of, quitted me about half an hour ago, and, it is singular enough, came to me in the hope that I might be able to recommend him to a master. He has been twice in my service: for his talent and courage I will answer; and I believe him to be trustworthy, at least to masters who may chime in with his humour, for I must inform you that he is a most extraordinary fellow, full of strange likes and antipathies, which he will gratify at any expense, either to himself or others. Perhaps he will attach himself to you, in which case you will find him highly valuable; for, if he please, he can turn his hand to anything, and is not only acquainted with two, but half a dozen languages.” “Is he a Spaniard?” I inquired. “I will send him to you to-morrow,” said Borrego, “you will best learn from his own mouth who and what he is.” The next day, as I had just sat down to my _sopa_, my hostess informed me that a man wished to speak to me. “Admit him,” said I, and he almost instantly made his appearance. He was dressed respectably in the French fashion, and had rather a juvenile look, though I subsequently learned that he was considerably above forty. He was somewhat above the middle stature, and might have been called well made, had it not been for his meagreness, which was rather remarkable. His arms were long and bony, and his whole form conveyed an idea of great activity united with no slight degree of strength. His hair was wiry, but of jetty blackness; his forehead low; his eyes small and grey, expressive of much subtlety and no less malice, strangely relieved by a strong dash of humour; the nose was handsome, but the mouth was immensely wide, and his under jaw projected considerably. A more singular physiognomy I had never seen, and I continued staring at him for some time in silence. “Who are you?” I at last demanded. “Domestic in search of a master,” answered the man in good French, but in a strange accent. “I come recommended to you, my Lor, by _Monsieur_ B---.” _Myself_.—Of what nation may you be? Are you French or Spanish? _Man_.—God forbid that I should be either, _mi Lor_; _j’ai l’honneur d’être de la nation Grecque_; my name is Antonio Buchini, native of Pera the Belle, {265a} near to Constantinople. _Myself_.—And what brought you to Spain?