Chemises from Brittany, And husbands from Spain.

After my new companion had been installed in my chamber, I went out under pretense of seeing that the horses were taken care of, and ordered Cecilio to fetch from the kitchen a supper sufficient for two persons. The Biscayan, after some ceremony, seemed quite willing to accompany me in my repast. I had already made a good supper, but, for politeness' sake, I took a small portion to bear him company, my guest meanwhile doing justice to the viands, and quite lost in wonder at my abstemiousness.

Vagabond Life in Mexico — Part 82

"How can I help it?" said I, in explanation; "this is my first run through the country, and I have not yet got accustomed to their infernal cookery."

Vagabond Life in Mexico — Part 82

And while Cecilio, standing behind my chair, opened his eyes wide on hearing me say that I had but newly come into the country, I could not help admiring the prodigious appetite that had been developed by a fast of twenty-four hours.

Vagabond Life in Mexico — Part 82

"Now," said I, when the dishes were all cleared, "if the neighborhood of a young and charming lady, whose chamber is next to mine, does not hinder you from sleeping, I fancy you will do well to imitate me." And I muffled myself in my cloak, and lay down on the floor.

"Not a bad idea," said the Spaniard. "But, before going to sleep, perhaps you would like to hear an air on my mandolin."

"Use your freedom, but pray pardon me if the melody set me asleep."

In spite of the hard and cold couch on which I was reclining, in a short time I heard nothing but a confused murmur of broken notes, and then consciousness forsook me. I awoke with a start, under the impression that a strong chilling draught was setting full upon me. The long, thin candle which had been stuck to the wall of the chamber was throwing its last dull, smoky glare around. The Spaniard had disappeared. I was alone; and the chamber door, which had been left open, had allowed the cold night air to enter and awake me. A dead silence reigned through the hacienda, broken only by the distant crowing of the cock. I listened, surprised at the abrupt disappearance of my companion, and rose and shut the door, and, while doing so, threw a hasty glance into the court-yard. From amid the darkness I thought I discerned two black profiles half hidden by a column. One of them was that of the Biscayan, whose voice I could distinguish, although he spoke low; the other was unknown to me; but in the sweet tone, and in the accents, though prudently concealed, I could not doubt for a moment but that it was a woman. I had seen enough. I repaired to the door and pushed it open. At the grating of the rusty hinges, a slender form disappeared like a shadow behind a distant pillar. The Biscayan came up quickly to me.