The last
bottle was now exhausted: he demanded more. I told him in a
gentle manner that he had drunk enough. He looked on the ground
for some time, then slowly, and somewhat hesitatingly, drew his
sword and laid it on the table. It was become dark. I was not
afraid of the fellow, but I wished to avoid anything unpleasant. I
called to Francisco to bring lights, and obeying a sign which I
made him, he sat down at the table. The Gypsy glared fiercely upon
him - Francisco laughed, and began with great glee to talk in
Basque, of which the Gypsy understood not a word. The Basques,
like all Tartars, (51) and such they are, are paragons of fidelity
and good nature; they are only dangerous when outraged, when they
are terrible indeed. Francisco, to the strength of a giant joined
the disposition of a lamb. He was beloved even in the patio of the
prison, where he used to pitch the bar and wrestle with the
murderers and felons, always coming off victor. He continued
speaking Basque. The Gypsy was incensed; and, forgetting the
languages in which, for the last hour, he had been speaking,
complained to Francisco of his rudeness in speaking any tongue but
Castilian.
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