The next day verified the prediction of the Spanish surgeon; I had
to a considerable degree lost my cough and fever, though, owing to
the loss of blood, I was somewhat feeble. Precisely at twelve
o'clock the horses were led forth before the door of my lodging in
the Calle de Santiago, and I prepared to mount: but my black
entero of Andalusia would not permit me to approach his side, and
whenever I made the attempt, commenced wheeling round with great
rapidity.
"C'est un mauvais signe, mon maitre," said Antonio, who, dressed in
a green jerkin, a Montero cap, booted and spurred, stood ready to
attend me, holding by the bridle the horse which I had purchased
from the contrabandista. "It is a bad sign, and in my country they
would defer the journey till to-morrow."
"Are there whisperers in your country?" I demanded; and taking the
horse by the mane, I performed the ceremony after the most approved
fashion: the animal stood still, and I mounted the saddle,
exclaiming -
"The Rommany Chal to his horse did cry,
As he placed the bit in his horse's jaw;
Kosko gry! Rommany gry!
Muk man kistur tute knaw."
We then rode forth from Madrid by the gate of San Vincente,
directing our course to the lofty mountains which separate Old from
New Castile.
