such a volley of oaths, blasphemies, and abusive epithets that
the very chickens, scandalized by his brutality, protested against it
from their baskets.

"The best thing I can do is to get away from this place as quickly as
possible," said the gentlemen to himself. "The conductor said that the
beasts were here."

Just as he had come to this conclusion he felt a thin hand pulling him
gently and respectfully by the cloak. He turned round and saw a figure
enveloped in a gray cloak, and out of whose voluminous folds peeped the
shrivelled and astute countenance of a Castilian peasant. He looked at
the ungainly figure, which reminded one of the black poplar among trees;
he observed the shrewd eyes that shone from beneath the wide brim of the
old velvet hat; the sinewy brown hand that grasped a green switch, and
the broad foot that, with every movement, made the iron spur jingle.

"Are you Senor Don Jose de Rey?" asked the peasant, raising his hand to
his hat.

"Yes; and you, I take it," answered the traveller joyfully, "are Dona
Perfecta's servant, who have come to the station to meet me and show me
the way to Orbajosa?"

"The same. Whenever you are ready to start. The pony runs like the
wind. And Senor Don Jose, I am sure, is a good rider. For what comes by
race--"

"Which is the way out?" asked the traveller, with impatience. "Come, let
us start, senor--What is your name?"

"My name is Pedro Lucas," answered the man of the gray cloak, again
making a motion to take off his hat; "but they call me Uncle Licurgo.
Where is the young gentleman's baggage?"

"There it is--there under the cloak. There are three pieces--two
portmanteaus and a box of books for Senor Don Cayetano. Here is the
check."

A moment later cavalier and squire found themselves behind the barracks
called a depot, and facing a road which, starting at this point,
disappeared among the neighboring hills, on whose naked slopes could be
vaguely distinguished the miserable hamlet of Villahorrenda. There were
three animals to carry the men and the luggage. A not ill-looking nag
was destined for the cavalier; Uncle Licurgo was to ride a venerable
hack, somewhat loose in the joints, but sure-footed; and the mule, which
was to be led by a stout country boy of active limbs and fiery blood,
was to carry the luggage.

Before the caravan had put itself in motion the train had started, and
was now creeping along the road with the lazy deliberation of a way
trai