“Oh! the Conde de Aranda, as you know,” exclaimed Malespina, “condemned that unlucky war with the Republic from the first. How often have we discussed the question—for we have been friends from our childhood. When I was in Aragon we lived together for six months at Moncayo. Indeed, it was for him that I had a very curious gun constructed. …”
“Yes, Aranda was always opposed to it,” interrupted Don Alonso, intercepting him on the dangerous ground of gunnery.
“So he did,” said Don José to whom rodomontade was irresistible, “and I may say that when that distinguished man so warmly advocated peace with the republicans, it was because I advised it, being convinced from the first that the war was a mistake. But Godoy, who was then supreme, persisted in it, simply and solely to contradict me, as I have learned since. But the best of it is that Godoy himself was obliged to put an end to the war in 1795, when he understood what it really was, and at the same time he adopted the high-sounding title of Prince of Peace.”
“How much we want a good statesman, my worthy friend,” said my master. “A man on a level with the times, who would not throw us into useless wars but who could maintain the dignity of the crown.”
“Well, when I was at Madrid last year,” continued Don José, “proposals were made to me to accept the post of Secretary of State. The Queen was most anxious for it—the King said nothing. I went with him every day to the Prado to fire a few shots.—Even Godoy would have agreed, recognizing my superior qualifications; and indeed, if he had not I should have had no difficulty in finding some snug little fortress where I might lock him up so that he might give me no trouble. However, I declined, preferring to live in peace in my own country-town; I left the management of public affairs in Godoy’s hands. There you have a man whose father was a mule-boy on my father-in-law’s estate in Estremadura. …”
“I did not know that. …” said Don Alonso. “Although he is a man of obscure origin I always supposed the Prince of Peace to belong to a family of good birth, whose fortune was impaired but whose ancestry was respectable.”
And so the dialogue went on; Señor Malespina uttering his falsehoods as if they were gospel, and my master listening with angelic calmness, sometimes annoyed by them, and sometimes amused at listening to such nonsense. If I remember rightly, Don José María took the credit of having advised Napoleon to the bold deeds of the 18th Brumaire.
Talking of these and of other matters we reached Chiclana as night overtook us, and my master, who was utterly tired and worn out by the villainous chaise, remained in the town, while the others went on, being anxious to reach Cádiz the same night. While we were at supper Malespina poured out a fresh farrago of lies, and I could see that his son heard them with pain, as if he were horrified at having for his father the most romancing liar in the world probably. We took leave of them and rested there till next day when we proceeded on our journey by daybreak, and as the road from Chiclana to Cádiz was much easier than that we had already traversed, we reached the end of our journey by about eleven o’clock in the morning, without adventure, safe in body and in excellent spirits.
VIII
I cannot describe the enthusiasm that fired my mind at the sight of Cádiz. As soon as I had a moment to myself—as soon, that is to say, as my master was fairly settled in his cousin’s house—I went out into the streets and ran to and fro without any fixed destination, intoxicated as it were by the atmosphere of my beloved native city. After so long an absence all I saw attracted my attention as though it were something new and beautiful. In how many of the passersby did I recognize a familiar face? everything charmed me and appealed to my feelings—men, women, old folks, children—the dogs, nay the houses even; for my youthful imagination discovered in each a personal and living individuality; I felt towards them as towards intelligent creatures; they seemed to me to express, like all else, their satisfaction at seeing me, and to wear, in their balconies and windows, the expression of gay and cheerful faces. In short my spirit saw its own gladness reflected in every surrounding object.
I hurried through the streets with eager curiosity, as if I wanted to see them all at once. In the Plaza San Juan I bought a handful of sweetmeats, less for the satisfaction of eating them than for that of introducing myself under a new aspect to the sellers, whom I addressed as an old friend; some of them with gratitude as having been kind to me in my former misery and others as victims, not yet indemnified, to my childish propensity for pillage. Most of them did not remember me; some, however, received me with abusive language, bringing up the deeds of my youth against me and making ironical remarks on my new fit-out and the dignity of my appearance, reducing me to flight as quickly as possible and damaging my appearance by pelting me with the rind or husks of fruit, flung by skilful hands at my new clothes. However, as I was fully convinced of my own importance, these insults increased my pride more than they hurt my feelings.
Then I went to the ramparts, and counted all the ships at anchor within sight. I spoke to several sailors that I met, telling them that I too was about to join the fleet, and asking them with eager emphasis whether they had
