"No," was the reply; "and on that account every person
is so eager to go; which would not be the case if it were in a
language which they could understand."
On the morning of the next day I was seated at breakfast in a large
apartment which looked out upon the Plaza Mayor, or great square of
the good town of Vigo. The sun was shining very brilliantly, and
all around looked lively and gay. Presently a stranger entered,
and bowing profoundly, stationed himself at the window, where he
remained a considerable time in silence. He was a man of very
remarkable appearance, of about thirty-five. His features were of
perfect symmetry, and I may almost say, of perfect beauty. His
hair was the darkest I had ever seen, glossy and shining; his eyes
large, black, and melancholy; but that which most struck me was his
complexion. It might be called olive, it is true, but it was a
livid olive. He was dressed in the very first style of French
fashion. Around his neck was a massive gold chain, while upon his
fingers were large rings, in one of which was set a magnificent
ruby. Who can that man be? thought I; - Spaniard or Portuguese,
perhaps a Creole. I asked him an indifferent question in Spanish,
to which he forthwith replied in that language, but his accent
convinced me that he was neither Spaniard nor Portuguese.
"I presume I am speaking to an Englishman, sir?" said he, in as
good English as it was possible for one not an Englishman to speak.
Myself. - You know me to be an Englishman; but I should find some
difficulty in guessing to what country you belong.
Stranger. - May I take a seat?
Myself. - A singular question. Have you not as much right to sit in
the public apartment of an inn as myself?
Stranger. - I am not certain of that. The people here are not in
general very gratified at seeing me seated by their side.
Myself. - Perhaps owing to your political opinions, or to some crime
which it may have been your misfortune to commit?
Stranger. - I have no political opinions, and I am not aware that I
ever committed any particular crime, - I am hated for my country and
my religion.
Myself. - Perhaps I am speaking to a Protestant, like myself?
Stranger. - I am no Protestant. If I were, they would be cautious
here of showing their dislike, for I should then have a government
and a consul to protect me. I am a Jew - a Barbary Jew, a subject
of Abderrahman.
Myself. - If that be the case, you can scarcely complain of being
looked upon with dislike in this country, since in Barbary the Jews
are slaves.
Stranger. - In most parts, I grant you, but not where I was born,
which was far up the country, near the deserts.
