Scarcely had we stopped before the door of the pretended hostelry than a great hulking fellow, one of the half-breeds so numerous in Mexico, very easily known by his complexion, opened one of the leaves of the door, which was secured by the invariable iron chain. This was the master of the inn, who had come to parley with us.
"I have neither stables, nor maize, nor straw to offer your lordships," said the half-breed, in a gruff tone; "be so good, then, as to continue your journey."
"Go to the devil," said the officer, "with your straw, your maize, and your stables; all we want is a room fit for Christians and officers. Open, or I will smash the door to pieces."
To give full force to his threat, Captain Don Blas struck the door such a furious blow with his sabre, that the huesped, in a fright, dropped the chain, and, excusing himself for his obstinacy by the plea that there were a great number of suspicious characters abroad, ushered us into an apartment little better than a stable.
"I hope," cried Don Romulo, putting his pocket handkerchief to his nose, "that we sha'n't be obliged to pass the night in this cursed hole!"
"You are very squeamish, mon cher" said Fray Serapio; "the room seems tolerable enough."
In spite of this assertion, we determined to push on after the storm had passed. We remained, then, standing till we could take the road again, as we wished to reach the hacienda as quickly as possible, where a hospitable reception had been promised us. I thought this halt presented a favorable opportunity for making some inquiries about the mysterious monk I had met in the garden of San Francisco. To my first question:
