On the tenth day I was cast into prison, where I continued several
weeks. Once, during my confinement, he called at the house, and
being informed of my mishap, drew his sword, and vowed with
horrible imprecations to murder the prime minister of Ofalia, for
having dared to imprison his brother. On my release, I did not
revisit my lodgings for some days, but lived at an hotel. I
returned late one afternoon, with my servant Francisco, a Basque of
Hernani, who had served me with the utmost fidelity during my
imprisonment, which he had voluntarily shared with me. The first
person I saw on entering was the Gypsy soldier, seated by the
table, whereon were several bottles of wine which he had ordered
from the tavern, of course on my account. He was smoking, and
looked savage and sullen; perhaps he was not much pleased with the
reception he had experienced. He had forced himself in, and the
woman of the house sat in a corner looking upon him with dread. I
addressed him, but he would scarcely return an answer. At last he
commenced discoursing with great volubility in Gypsy and Latin. I
did not understand much of what he said. His words were wild and
incoherent, but he repeatedly threatened some person.
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