Road, save when it occasionally
raised a huge face and large eyes towards the moon, which was now
shining forth in the eastern quarter.
"A cold night," said I at last. "Is this the way to Talavera?"
"It is the way to Talavera, and the night is cold."
"I am going to Talavera," said I, "as I suppose you are yourself."
"I am going thither, so are you, Bueno."
The tones of the voice which delivered these words were in their
way quite as strange and singular as the figure to which the voice
belonged; they were not exactly the tones of a Spanish voice, and
yet there was something in them that could hardly be foreign; the
pronunciation also was correct; and the language, though singular,
faultless. But I was most struck with the manner in which the last
word, bueno, was spoken. I had heard something like it before, but
where or when I could by no means remember. A pause now ensued;
the figure stalking on as before with the most perfect
indifference, and seemingly with no disposition either to seek or
avoid conversation.
"Are you not afraid," said I at last, "to travel these roads in the
dark? It is said that there are robbers abroad."
"Are you not rather afraid," replied the figure, "to travel these
roads in the dark?
