Antonio. - And who sent you on this errand?
Myself. - You would scarcely understand me were I to inform you.
Know, however, that there are many in foreign lands who lament the
darkness which envelops Spain, and the scenes of cruelty, robbery,
and murder which deform it.
Antonio. - Are they Calore or Busne?
Myself. - What matters it? Both Calore and Busne are sons of the
same God.
Antonio. - You lie, brother, they are not of one father nor of one
Errate. You speak of robbery, cruelty, and murder. There are too
many Busne, brother; if there were no Busne there would be neither
robbery nor murder. The Calore neither rob nor murder each other,
the Busno do; nor are they cruel to their animals, their law
forbids them. When I was a child I was beating a burra, but my
father stopped my hand, and chided me. "Hurt not the animal," said
he; "for within it is the soul of your own sister!"
Myself. - And do you believe in this wild doctrine, O Antonio?
Antonio. - Sometimes I do, sometimes I do not. There are some who
believe in nothing; not even that they live! Long since, I knew an
old Caloro, he was old, very old, upwards of a hundred years, - and
I once heard him say, that all we thought we saw was a lie; that
there was no world, no men nor women, no horses nor mules, no olive
trees.
