Without waiting for my answer he hastened forward, and was speedily
out of sight.
I followed slowly behind, and entered the gate of the town; an old
dilapidated place, consisting of little more than one street.
Along this street I was advancing, when a man with a dirty foraging
cap on his head, and holding a gun in his hand, came running up to
me: "Who are you?" said he, in rather rough accents, "from whence
do you come?"
"From Badajoz and Trujillo," I replied; "why do you ask?"
"I am one of the national guard," said the man, "and am placed here
to inspect strangers; I am told that a Gypsy fellow just now rode
through the town; it is well for him that I had stepped into my
house. Do you come in his company?"
"Do I look a person," said I, "likely to keep company with
Gypsies?"
The national measured me from top to toe, and then looked me full
in the face with an expression which seemed to say, "likely
enough." In fact, my appearance was by no means calculated to
prepossess people in my favour. Upon my head I wore an old
Andalusian hat, which, from its condition, appeared to have been
trodden under foot; a rusty cloak, which had perhaps served half a
dozen generations, enwrapped my body.
