an
expression of wrath and disappointment; her angry glances fell on the new
comer, and again on her master, who looked down, and said with the
timidity of a child who dreads the remonstrance of his parent:--

"Peace, Margarita, where there is enough, for two, there is always enough
for three, and you would not have wished me to leave a Christian to
starve? he has not eaten for three days."

"Santa Maria! he a Christian, he looks more like a robber," and muttering
to herself, the housekeeper left the room. During this parley, the
stranger remained motionless at the threshold of the door; he was tall,
with long black hair, and flashing eyes, his clothes were in tatters, and
the long rifle which he carried excited distrust rather than favor.

"Must I go away?" he inquired.

The curate replied, with an emphatic gesture, "never shall he, whom I
shelter, be driven away, or made unwelcome: but sit down, put aside your
gun, let us say grace, and to our repast."

"I never quit my weapon; as the proverb says, two friends are one, my
rifle is my best friend; I shall keep it between my knees. Though you may
not send me from your house till it suits me, there are others who would
make me leave theirs against my will, and perhaps head-foremost. Now to
your health, let us eat." The curate himself, although a man of good
appetite, was amazed at the voracity of the stranger, who seemed to bolt
rather than eat almost the whole of the dish, besides drinking the whole
flask of wine, and leaving none for his host, or scarcely a morsel of the
enormous loaf which occupied a corner of the table. Whilst he was eating
so voraciously, he started at the slightest noise; if a gust of wind
suddenly closed the door, he sprang up and leveling his rifle, seemed
determined to repel intrusion; having recovered from his alarm, he again
sat down, and went on with his repast. "Now," said he, speaking with his
mouth full, "I must tax your kindness to the utmost. I am wounded in the
thigh, and eight days have passed without its being dressed. Give me a
few bits of linen, then you shall be rid of me."

"I do not wish to rid myself of you," replied the curate, interested in
his guest in spite of his threatening demeanor, by his strange exciting
conversation. "I am somewhat of a doctor; you will not have the
awkwardness of a country barber, or dirty bandages to complain of, you
shall see." so speaking, he drew forth, from a closet a bundle containing
all