We had now no choice but to resume our doleful way to Villafranca, which, we were told, was a short league distant, though it proved a league and a half.We found it no easy matter to quit the town, for we were bewildered amongst its labyrinths, and could not find the outlet.A lad about eighteen was, however, persuaded, by the promise of a peseta, to guide us: whereupon he led us by many turnings to a bridge, which he told us to cross, and to follow the road, which was that of Villafranca; he then, having received his fee, hastened from us.
We followed his directions, not, however, without a suspicion that he might be deceiving us.The night had settled darker down upon us, so that it was impossible to distinguish any object, however nigh.The lightning had become more faint and rare.We heard the rustling of trees, and occasionally the barking of dogs, which last sound, however, soon ceased, and we were in the midst of night and silence.My horse, either from weariness, or the badness of the road, frequently stumbled;whereupon I dismounted, and leading him by the bridle, soon left Antonio far in the rear.
I had proceeded in this manner a considerable way, when a circumstance occurred of a character well suited to the time and place.
I was again amidst trees and bushes, when the horse stopping short, nearly pulled me back.I know not how it was, but fear suddenly came over me, which, though in darkness and in solitude, I had not felt before.I was about to urge the animal forward, when I heard a noise at my right hand, and listened attentively.It seemed to be that of a person or persons forcing their way through branches and brushwood.It soon ceased, and I heard feet on the road.It was the short staggering kind of tread of people carrying a very heavy substance, nearly too much for their strength, and I thought Iheard the hurried breathing of men over-fatigued.There was a short pause, during which I conceived they were resting in the middle of the road; then the stamping recommenced, until it reached the other side, when I again heard a similar rustling amidst branches; it continued for some time and died gradually away.
I continued my road, musing on what had just occurred, and forming conjectures as to the cause.The lightning resumed its flashing, and I saw that I was approaching tall black mountains.
This nocturnal journey endured so long that I almost lost all hope of reaching the town, and had closed my eyes in a doze, though I still trudged on mechanically, leading the horse.Suddenly a voice at a slight distance before me roared out, "QUIEN VIVE?" for I had at last found my way to Villafranca.It proceeded from the sentry in the suburb, one of those singular half soldiers half guerillas, called Miguelets, who are in general employed by the Spanish government to clear the roads of robbers.I gave the usual answer, "ESPANA," and went up to the place where he stood.
After a little conversation, I sat down on a stone, awaiting the arrival of Antonio, who was long in making his appearance.
On his arrival, I asked if any one had passed him on the road, but he replied that he had seen nothing.The night, or rather the morning, was still very dark, though a small corner of the moon was occasionally visible.On our inquiring the way to the gate, the Miguelet directed us down a street to the left, which we followed.The street was steep, we could see no gate, and our progress was soon stopped by houses and wall.We knocked at the gates of two or three of these houses (in the upper stories of which lights were burning), for the purpose of being set right, but we were either disregarded or not heard.Ahorrid squalling of cats, from the tops of the houses and dark corners, saluted our ears, and I thought of the night arrival of Don Quixote and his squire at Toboso, and their vain search amongst the deserted streets for the palace of Dulcinea.At length we saw light and heard voices in a cottage at the other side of a kind of ditch.Leading the horses over, we called at the door, which was opened by an aged man, who appeared by his dress to be a baker, as indeed he proved, which accounted for his being up at so late an hour.On begging him to show us the way into the town, he led us up a very narrow alley at the end of his cottage, saying that he would likewise conduct us to the posada.
The alley led directly to what appeared to be the market-place, at a corner house of which our guide stopped and knocked.After a long pause an upper window was opened, and a female voice demanded who we were.The old man replied, that two travellers had arrived who were in need of lodging."Icannot be disturbed at this time of night," said the woman;"they will be wanting supper, and there is nothing in the house; they must go elsewhere." She was going to shut the window, but I cried that we wanted no supper, but merely resting place for ourselves and horses - that we had come that day from Astorga, and were dying with fatigue."Who is that speaking?" cried the woman."Surely that is the voice of Gil, the German clockmaker from Pontevedra.Welcome, old companion;you are come at the right time, for my own is out of order.Iam sorry I have kept you waiting, but I will admit you in a moment."The window was slammed to, presently a light shone through the crevices of the door, a key turned in the lock, and we were admitted.
