"'The Lord be praised!' thought I, as the train halted, and I gave in my papers to the Spanish town-major, Don José Gonzales y Llano, a field-officer of that regiment of Leon, which fled, en masse, from the field of Vittoria. 'My duty and my troubles are over together.' "But I was grievously mistaken, as I might have augured from the manner of the town-major, who curled his mustaches, and shifted from one foot to the other, like a man who has something unpleasant to say, but dares not. "While the occupants of the waggons were being conveyed to hospital by fatigue-parties of Spanish soldiers, and my guard joined a detachment of convalescents, who, under another officer, were on their march towards the castle of Belem. I soon became aware that I was an object of marked attention to the denizens of Ciudad Real. A vast crowd had gathered in the Plaza, and I saw many men, particularly paisanos, gesticulating violently, and pointing to me, while the muttering gradually rose into shouts of 'Maldetto! mueran los Inglesos! Perro! ladrone! bandido!' "'What the devil is the meaning of all this?' thought I; and indignantly pushed my horse right through them. On this the cries redoubled, and the crowd increased so fast, that I was fain to ride at a trot towards the house of a guantero (a maker of those gloves for which Ciudad Real is famous throughout Spain), on whom I had been billeted. There I found Darby Crogan awaiting me, breathless, exasperated, and carbine in hand, for he, too, had been followed in the same manner by a mob, who shouted, yelled, threw mud, stones, and rotten melons, with every missile which the uncleaned streets so readily afforded. We were perfectly at a loss to comprehend the cause of treatment so unusual and so unmerited. "'El guantero, our patron, is as cross as two sticks, or a bag of ould nails, devil mend him! and unless your honour has a coin about you, it's but a cowld supper we'll have,' said Crogan, as we entered the sala, or principal apartment of the house. "'I have not had a peseta since we left Mora,' said I; 'but here is the patron at supper, on a cold fowl, too! we are just in time.'