Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

soldiers in various uniforms; Highlanders in full costume, adding not a little to the general incongruity.

After a little time, to diversify the amusement of looking out of the window, I began talking to the waiter. There was one subject connected with the

hotel about which I felt a little curious. The waiter was still engaged in laying the table for the jury. His name was Louis.

"Was that the landlord who showed me upstairs, Louis?"

"Oh no, madame-mister-sare."

[ocr errors]

Louis' English was limited in quantity, and eccentric in quality. He was evidently quite abroad as to the correct title to be used in addressing me, so he tried all those with which he was most familiar.

"Who is he then ?"

"Sare-madame-he is de guide."

"Is there any landlord then ?"

"Oh yes, madame-sare. But he is in bed! He did break her leg."

This announcement somewhat horrified me. Had the landlord broken his wife's leg? But if so, why did he take to his bed? Was it remorse?

"What do you mean, Louis ?" I felt that I should like to have the matter explained.

"Why, madame-sare," said Louis, evidently surprised at my want of comprehension, "she fell down and broke his leg."

This presented a total reversion of the case. Evidently it was the landlady who had fallen down on the landlord, and broken his leg. But I would make

sure.

[ocr errors]

Oh, the landlady broke her husband's leg?"

"No, sare-madame. It is de landlord. In August he fell down one time and broke her leg; after Christmas he fell down two time, and broke her leg again."

"Broken three times! Poor creature!"

not feel sure as to whose was the leg.

Still I did

"No, madame-sare," said Louis, bearing my stupidity with patient politeness. "It was as I told to you. He fell down one time and broke her leg, and then he fell down two—”

"Stop, stop, Louis please!" I felt that at this rate I should never know whose leg was broken, and how many times. "I beg your pardon, but just tell me whose leg was broken? The landlord's, or the landlady's ?"

"De landlord's." Nothing could disturb the gentle courtesy of Louis' speech; but he looked as if he thought he had never met any one so hopelessly stupid as the person now addressing him.

"And how many times was it broken?"

"Why, as I have said! He fell down one time, and broke

[ocr errors]

"Oh stop, Louis?

Please just tell me how often

was it broken altogether? One, two, or three times ?”

C

and I held up in succession, one, two, and three fingers.

"Two times!" cried Louis, holding up two of his fingers, in reply.

I gave a sigh of relief. So did Louis. We understood each other at last.

But notwithstanding the conversational difficulties. in which I had involved myself by this attempt to converse with the waiter, after a little pause to collect my scattered senses, I began again.

"I suppose you're a Spaniard, Louis?"

But my second effort was nearly as unfortunate as my first. An expression of mingled surprise, displeasure, and disgust, overspread his countenance.

"No, madame-sare," he replied coldly, but politely still.

I hastened to correct myself.

"Oh, I beg your pardon; French, of course!"

"No, sare-madame," almost angrily, "I am Ingleesh," and Louis proudly elevated his chin.

"Are you really? I beg your pardon, Louis,” I said humbly, though really the error did not appear an unnatural one. Louis' appearance was as antiBritish as his speech. He was small, and had a small, pale, clear complexioned face. He wore a small black moustache, his black hair grew thick and low on his forehead, and he had large dark eyes, and even, white teeth. "Yes, madame-sare," said Louis gently, his feelings

evidently mollified by my humility into pity for my ignorance and stupidity. But to clear all doubts from my mind

"Yes, madame-sare," he continued. "It is true. My fader he was Spanish, and my moder she was Maltese; de fader of my moder he was Italian, but de moder of my fader, she was Ingleesh; and I am Ingleesh too; I was born under de Ingleesh flag;" and Louis elevated his chin again, proud of having thus clearly proved to me his right to be called my countryman.

I was silent. The shock at discovering the error I had committed in supposing Louis to be a foreigner, had taken away my powers of speech.

He passed round the table, placing the decanters which he had been filling during the progress of this colloquy. When he came near me again, he said gently,

"Yes; I am British subject; and I spik Ingleesh, madame-sare."

Evidently no doubt of his perfect acquaintance with his mother, or rather his grandmother, tongue had ever entered poor Louis' brain.

CHAPTER III.

THE HOTEL.

My colloquy with Louis was interrupted by the entrance of the guide, whom I had supposed to be the landlord. He came to inform me that he had been twice to the post-office to inquire for letters for me, and once again to the steam-packet office, to ask about the steamer to Tangier. That he had dried my waterproof cloak and umbrella, and got my boots cleaned; and that as the weather had so cleared up, he was at my service to accompany me forth wherever I might like to go.

I looked out of the window again, and saw that the sun had indeed established a temporary superiority over the rain, and was shining brightly. Banks of cloud and mist, however, that had retired for a time from directly overhead, were still visible in the sky, and were evidently gathering themselves together to come on again in greater force, and overwhelm the enemy. So I declined the guide's kind offers of a carriage to drive to Europa Point, or a pony to ascend the Rock, under his guidance. I would not even consent to his taking me out to see the town, and purchase Maltese lace and jewellery and Moorish curiosities at the shops.

However, I announced my intention of going out as far as another hotel in the immediate neighbourhood,

« AnteriorContinuar »