We had been drinking water.
'Where is the wine?' said he.
'I never use it,' I replied.
He looked blank. The hostess, however, who was present waiting,
said, 'If the gentleman wish for wine, I have a bota nearly full,
which I will instantly fetch.'
The skin bottle, when full, might contain about four quarts. She
filled him a very large glass, and was removing the skin, but he
prevented her, saying, 'Leave it, my good woman; my brother here
will settle with you for the little I shall use.'
He now lighted his cigar, and it was evident that he had made good
his quarters. On the former occasion I thought his behaviour
sufficiently strange, but I liked it still less on the present.
Every fifteen minutes he emptied his glass, which contained at
least a pint; his conversation became horrible. He related the
atrocities which he had committed when a robber and bragante in La
Mancha. 'It was our custom,' said he, 'to tie our prisoners to the
olive-trees, and then, putting our horses to full speed, to tilt at
them with our spears.' As he continued to drink he became waspish
and quarrelsome: he had hitherto talked Castilian, but he would
now only converse in Gypsy and in Latin, the last of which
languages he spoke with great fluency, though ungrammatically.
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