The Fortunes of Hector O'Halloran, and His Man, Mark Antony O'TooleMaxwell, W. H. (William Hamilton)
General
The Fortunes of Hector O'Halloran, and His Man, Mark Antony O'Toole
Maxwell, W. H. (William Hamilton)
Ireland -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Whoever the stranger was, his orders were not disregarded. The
maritornes of the venta renewed her culinary labours; and the host
voluntarily departed to see that the horses of the late guests had
been properly accommodated, and make researches in his wine-stores,
afterwards, to try whether a flask more congenial to the taste of the
dark stranger might not be procurable. The latter, towards myself and
foster-brother, evinced from the first, decided symptoms of civility;
and among us three there appeared to be a friendly rivalship as to which
of us should hold out longest at the podrida. Were the hostleries in the
Peninsula frequently obnoxious to such visitors as we proved, I verily
believe that half the innkeepers in Spain would have been insolvent in a
twelvemonth.
“Faith, gentlemen,” observed the stranger, “to judge by the performances
of each other, we seem all in excellent health. No sauce for supper
after all, like a twelve hours’ ride through the mountains. What, ho!
Sir landlord! Wine--I say; and none of that valuable vintage you keep
for muleteers and travelling friars, who pay their scores in aves and
credos. What news, gentlemen?” he said, addressing us, “What is the
English Lord about; and will he soon be on the move again?”
I assured him that on these points I was in blessed ignorance--told the
simple tale of my journey to Valencia, and its causes--and, in return,
asked his advice touching which route I should adopt, as the one most
likely to be free from the French.
“You could not have made that inquiry from a better person,” he replied.
“I know the mountain country indifferently well; and if you place
yourself under my guidance, I shall ensure your safety to Cuenca.
Thence, to Valencia, I shall be able to obtain a passport that the
partidas will respect. Ha! I see my companions have scented supper in
the stable. Sit down, Jose; thou and Velasquez have seen more than a
single cork-tree since you heard the matin-bell.”
Following the example of their chief, the strangers deposited their
mantles and sombreros on a bench. Both were well armed; and each placed
his weapons immediately contiguous to his seat, like men who dread and
guard against surprise.
I thought nothing could have exceeded our late attack upon mine host’s
partridges and podrida. Pshaw!--as trenchermen, we could not hold a
candle to the worthy twain, who now went to work as if they had
been steadfastly resolved to clear out the posada of every edible it
contained.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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