The place where we lay down did not by any blandishments invite us to sleep luxuriously until morning, and certainly a mattress of broken stones is conducive to early rising. We wakened with the dawn; and as we had to spend no time in making a toilet before a dressing-table, we were soon ready to go out and pay our visits.
The idea came to all four of us at once that it would be a good thing to have some breakfast, but at the same time we agreed unanimously that it was impossible, as we had not the wherewithal to carry out such a high purpose.
“Don’t be discouraged, boys,” said Don Roque; “because very soon I will take you all to the house of my friend, who will take good care of us.”
While he was saying this, we saw emerging from our inn two men and a woman, of those who had been our companions there. They looked as if they were accustomed to sleep in the place. One of them was a cripple, a poor unfortunate who ended at his knees, and put himself in motion by the aid of crutches, swinging himself forward on them as if by oars. He was an old man, with a jovial face well burned by the sun. As he saluted us very pleasantly in passing, wishing us a good morning, Don Roque asked him in what part of the city was the house of Don José de Montoria. The cripple replied:—
“Don José de Montoria? I know him as if he were the apple of my eye. It is twenty years since he used to live in the Calle de la Albardería. Afterwards he moved to another street, the Calle de la Parra, then—but you are strangers, I see.”
“Yes, my good friend, we are strangers; and we have come to enlist with the troops of this brave city.”