From the church my friends conducted me to a fulling
mill in the neighbourhood, by a picturesque walk. There was no
lack either of trees or water, and I remarked, that the environs of
Palencia were amongst the most pleasant places that I had ever
seen.
Tired at last with rambling, we repaired to a coffee-house, where
they regaled me with chocolate and sweet-meats. Such was their
hospitality; and of hospitality of this simple and agreeable kind
there is much in Spain.
On the next day we pursued our journey, a dreary one, for the most
part, over bleak and barren plains, interspersed with silent and
cheerless towns and villages, which stood at the distance of two or
three leagues from each other. About midday we obtained a dim and
distant view of an immense range of mountains, which are in fact
those which bound Castile on the north. The day, however, became
dim and obscure, and we speedily lost sight of them. A hollow wind
now arose and blew over these desolate plains with violence,
wafting clouds of dust into our faces; the rays of the sun were
few, and those red and angry. I was tired of my journey, and when
about four we reached -, a large village, half way between Palencia
and Leon, I declared my intention of stopping for the night. I
scarcely ever saw a more desolate place than this same town or
village of -. The houses were for the most part large, but the
walls were of mud, like those of barns. We saw no person in the
long winding street to direct us to the venta, or posada, till at
last, at the farther end of the place, we descried two black
figures standing at a door, of whom, on making inquiry, we learned
that the door at which they stood was that of the house we were in
quest of. There was something strange in the appearance of these
two beings, who seemed the genii of the place. One was a small
slim man, about fifty, with sharp, ill-natured features. He was
dressed in coarse black worsted stockings, black breeches, and an
ample black coat with long trailing skirts. I should at once have
taken him for an ecclesiastic, but for his hat, which had nothing
clerical about it, being a pinched diminutive beaver. His
companion was of low stature, and a much younger man. He was
dressed in similar fashion, save that he wore a dark blue cloak.
Both carried walking sticks in their hands, and kept hovering about
the door, now within and now without, occasionally looking up the
road, as if they expected some one.
"Trust me, mon maitre," said Antonio to me, in French, "those two
fellows are Carlist priests, and are awaiting the arrival of the
Pretender. Les imbeciles!"
We conducted our horses to the stable, to which we were shown by
the woman of the house. "Who are those men?" said I to her.
"The eldest is head curate to our pueblo," said she; "the other is
brother to my husband. Pobrecito! he was a friar in our convent
before it was shut up and the brethren driven forth."
We returned to the door. "I suppose, gentlemen," said the curate,
"that you are Catalans. Do you bring any news from that kingdom?"
"Why do you suppose we are Catalans?" I demanded.
"Because I heard you this moment conversing in that language."
"I bring no news from Catalonia," said I. "I believe, however,
that the greater part of that principality is in the hands of the
Carlists."
"Ahem, brother Pedro! This gentleman says that the greater part of
Catalonia is in the hands of the royalists. Pray, sir, where may
Don Carlos be at present with his army?"
"He may be coming down the road this moment," said I, "for what I
know;" and, stepping out, I looked up the way.
The two figures were at my side in a moment; Antonio followed, and
we all four looked intently up the road.
"Do you see anything?" said I at last to Antonio.
"Non, mon maitre."
"Do you see anything, sir?" said I to the curate.
"I see nothing," said the curate, stretching out his neck.
"I see nothing," said Pedro, the ex-friar; "I see nothing but the
dust, which is becoming every moment more blinding."
"I shall go in, then," said I. "Indeed, it is scarcely prudent to
be standing here looking out for the Pretender: should the
nationals of the town hear of it, they might perhaps shoot us."
"Ahem," said the curate, following me; "there are no nationals in
this place: I would fain see what inhabitant would dare become a
national. When the inhabitants of this place were ordered to take
up arms as nationals, they refused to a man, and on that account we
had to pay a mulet; therefore, friend, you may speak out if you
have anything to communicate; we are all of your opinion here."
"I am of no opinion at all," said I, "save that I want my supper.
I am neither for Rey nor Roque. You say that I am a Catalan, and
you know that Catalans think only of their own affairs."
In the evening I strolled by myself about the village, which I
found still more forlorn and melancholy than it at first appeared;
perhaps, however, it had been a place of consequence in its time.
In one corner of it I found the ruins of a large clumsy castle,
chiefly built of flint stones: into these ruins I attempted to
penetrate, but the entrance was secured by a gate. From the castle
I found my way to the convent, a sad desolate place, formerly the
residence of mendicant brothers of the order of St. Francis.
