short, there
was something so remarkable in his appearance that it was
difficult to say to what nation he might belong. He was tall,
with a commanding appearance; yet, though apparently in the
flower of manhood, his hair was so deeply tinged with the
winter of either age or sorrow as to be nearly snow-white.
Under these circumstances, I was rather puzzled as to what
language I should address him in. At last, putting a bold face
on the matter, I approached him with a 'Bonjour, monsieur, quel
triste temps!'

'Yes, sir,' replied he in the purest Parisian accent; 'and it
is very unusual weather here at this time of the year.'

'Does "monsieur" intend to be any time at Seville?' asked I. He
replied in the affirmative. We were soon on a friendly footing,
and from his varied information I was both amused and
instructed. Still I became more than ever in the dark as to his
nationality; I found he could speak English as fluently as
French. I tried him on the Italian track; again he was
perfectly at home.

He had a Greek servant, to whom his gave his orders in Romaic.
He conversed in good Castilian with 'mine host'; exchanged a
German salutation with an Austrian Baron, at the time an inmate
of the fonda; and on mentioning to him my morning visit to
Triano, which led to some remarks on the gypsies, and the
probable place from whence they derived their origin, he
expressed his belief that it was from Moultan, and said that,
even to this day, they retained many Moultanee and Hindoostanee
expressions, such as 'panee' (water), 'buree panee'[131] (the
sea), etc. He was rather startled when I replied 'in Hindee,'
but was delighted on finding I was an Indian, and entered
freely, and with depth and acuteness, on the affairs of the
East, most of which part of the world he had visited.

In such varied discourse did the hours pass so swiftly away
that we were not a little surprised when Pepe, the 'mozo' (and
I verily believe all Spanish waiters are called Pepe),
announced the hour of dinner; after which we took a long walk
together on the banks of the river. But, on our return, I was
as much as ever in ignorance as to who might be my new and
pleasant acquaintance.

I took the first opportunity of questioning Antonio Baillie
(Buchini) on