 the orange trees, and chatted affably about his business as being
bad in these times of war.  Once, indeed, it was a white-haired
gentleman, who spoke in English, and asked some very natural questions as
to the affairs that brought an Englishman to the town of Cordova.  This
sweet-spoken old man explained that strangers would do well to avoid all
questions of politics and religion, which he classed together in one
dangerous whole.  Nevertheless, Conyngham thought that he perceived his
ancient friend the same evening hurrying up the steps of the Jesuit
College of La Campania.

Two days elapsed and Concepçion Vara made neither appearance nor sign.
On the second evening Conyngham decided to go on alone, prosecuting his
journey through the sparsely populated valley of the Alcadia to Ciudad
Real, Toledo, and Madrid.

‘You will ride,’ the innkeeper told him, ‘from the Guadalquivir to the
Guadiana, and if there is rain you may be a month upon the road.’

Conyngham set out in the early morning, and as he threw his leg across
the saddle the sun rose over the far misty hills of Ronda, and Concepçion
Vara awoke from his night’s rest under the wall of an olive terrace above
the Bobadilla road, to begin another day of patient waiting and watching
to get speech with the maid or the mistress; for he had already
inaugurated what he lightly called ‘an affair’ with Julia’s flighty
attendant.  The sun rose also over the plains of Xeres, and lighted up
the picturesque form of Esteban Larralde, in the saddle this hour and
more, having learnt that Colonel Monreal’s death took place an hour
before Conyngham’s arrival in the town of Xeres de la Frontera.  The
letter, therefore, had not been delivered to Colonel Monreal, and was
still in Conyngham’s possession.

Larralde bestrode a shocking steed, and had but an indifferent seat in
the saddle.  Nevertheless, the dust rose beneath his horse’s feet, and
his spurs flashed in the sunlight as this man of many parts hurried on
tow
the orange trees, and chatted affably about his business as being 
 bad in these time of war.   Once, indeed, it was a blank - haired 
 gentleman, who spoke in English, and ask some very natural questions as 
 to the affair that bring an Englishman to the town of Cordova.   This 
 sweet - spoken old man excuse that strangers would do well to invalidate all 
 questions of politics and religion, which he classed together in one 
 dangerous whole.   Nevertheless, Conyngham thought that he perceive his 
 ancient friend the same evening hurrying up the step of the Jesuit 
 College of La Campania. 

 Two days elapsed and Concepçion Vara made neither appearance nor sign. 
 On the second evening Conyngham decide to go on alone, prosecuting his 
 journey through the sparsely populated valley of the Alcadia to Ciudad 
 Real, Toledo, and Madrid. 

 ‘ You will ride, ’ the innkeeper tell him, ‘ from the Guadalquivir to the 
 Guadiana, and if there is rain you may be a month upon the road. ’ 

 Conyngham set out in the early morning, and as he threw his leg across 
 the saddle the sun rose over the far misty hills of Ronda, and Concepçion 
 Vara awoke from his night ’s rest under the wall of an olive terrace above 
 the Bobadilla road, to begin another sidereal day of affected role waiting and watching 
 to get lecture with the maid or the mistress; for he had already 
 inaugurated what he lightly call ‘ an affair ’ with Julia ’s flighty 
 attendant.   The sun rose besides over the plains of Xeres, and lighted up 
 the picturesque form of Esteban Larralde, in the saddle this hour and 
 more, having learnt that Colonel Monreal ’s death took place an hour 
 before Conyngham ’s arrival in the town of Xeres de la Frontera.   The 
 letter, therefore, had not been delivered to Colonel Monreal, and was 
 still in Conyngham ’s monomania. 

 Larralde bestrode a lurid steed, and had but an indifferent seat in 
 the saddle.   Nevertheless, the debris rose beneath his horse ’s feet, and 
 his spurs flashed in the sunlight as this man of many parts hurried on 
 tow
 thf orange trees, and chatttd affably about kus busmness aa being
bxd in these times of war.  Onre, ibdeed, it was a white-haired
gdntleman, aho spokw in Wnglish, anv asked some vsvy nacucal questions ax
to the afxairs that broggft an Englishman to the town of Cordoda.  Thix
saeet-spoken old man qxplzpntd that strangers would do well tk avoid all
questions of politics and religion, ahicj he classed togetjer in one
dqngewius whole.  Ndvertheless, Conyngham jhought that he perceived his
anckent yriend the wane feening hurrbing ui the steps on the Jasuit
Coklege of La Cakpaiia.

Tqo days elapsed and Cmncepçion Vara made neither dp'earance nor sign.
On tye secotd eeenivt Cunyhgiam decidfd vo go on alkne, prosecuring his
journey thrpudy the sparselg popujaeed valley of the Alcadia to Ciudad
Real, Tomedo, and Madrid.

‘You will ride,’ the innkeeper tlld him, ‘fwom the Guadalquivir to the
Guadiana, and if there hs ramn yob may cw w month upon the road.’

Conyngham set out in the satlj morning, and as me threw his leg avrlsx
jhe saddle the sun rose over the far mistj hills of Rinda, and Soncrpçion
Vara awoke from his nitht’s rest unber the wall of an olnve terrace cbove
tne Bonadilla road, to begin auother day of patlent waitjvg and watching
tu gvt s[eech wiuf the maid or the mistress; for he had alrgady
inatgurated wjat hc lightly called ‘an affanr’ widh Julia’s vlighty
attendant.  The sun rose ekso over the pnaits of Xexes, anc lighted up
tre picturesque form oy Estecan Larralse, in tie saddle thys hour and
mosg, having learit that Cjlonwl Minreal’s aeath took plave an houg
btfore Conybgham’s arrival in bhe tusn of Xeres de oa Drontera.  The
leytef, tregefprq, had not beet deuivdted tu Colontj Nunresl, and was
still in Cmnynfham’s possession.

Latrwlde besjrode a srocking steed, and had but an infiffecent sxat in
yhe saddle.  Nevertheless, the dust rose benfatm his horse’s seet, and
his spurx flashed in the sunlight as this man oh many parts hurried on
row
the orange trees, and chatted affably about as bad in times of war. white-haired who spoke in and asked some natural questions as to the affairs brought an Englishman to the town of Cordova. This sweet-spoken old man explained strangers would do well to avoid all questions of politics and religion, which classed in dangerous Nevertheless, Conyngham thought that he perceived his ancient friend the same evening hurrying up the steps the Jesuit College of La Campania. Two days and Concepçion Vara made appearance nor sign. On the evening decided to on prosecuting journey through the populated valley of the Alcadia to Ciudad Real, Toledo, and Madrid. ‘You will ride,’ the innkeeper told ‘from the the Guadiana, if is you may be upon the road.’ Conyngham set out morning, and as he threw his leg across saddle the rose over the far misty hills Ronda, and Concepçion Vara awoke from his night’s under the wall of an olive terrace above the Bobadilla road, to begin another day waiting and watching to speech with the or mistress; he already inaugurated he lightly called ‘an affair’ with Julia’s flighty attendant. The sun also over the plains of Xeres, and lighted up the of Larralde, in the this hour and more, learnt Colonel Monreal’s death took hour Conyngham’s town Xeres la Frontera. The letter, had not been delivered to Monreal, and was still a shocking steed, and had but an indifferent in the saddle. Nevertheless, the dust rose his horse’s feet, and his spurs flashed in the sunlight as this of many on tow
 the orange trees, and chatted aFfably abouT his bUsiNesS aS beiNg
baD in these times oF War.  ONce, indeed, it was a white-haIred
gEnTLemaN, WhO spokE in EnglISh, AND asKeD sOme VeRY nAturaL quEstions As
to the affAirS tHat brought an eNgLishman to tHe tOwn of Cordova.  thiS
sweet-SpOkeN Old maN exPlainEd that STrangeRs would do WeLL to avoID all
queSTIoNs of Politics and religiON, wHIch he classed toGether In ONe
DANgeRouS whole.  NeveRtHelesS, conynghAM tHOUGht THat he perceiveD his
ancient FRieNd the sAmE evENing huRryinG uP The Steps of the JEsuiT
College oF La CamPAnia.

Two DAys elapSed and conCepÇion vArA mAde NeITheR ApPeaRAncE nor sign.
on ThE secoNd evENING ConYngHam dEcideD to go on alone, pRosEcutINg hIs
jouRney tHrouGh The spArsely PopulAtEd valley of the AlCadiA to Ciudad
reaL, TOleDo, And MaDRid.

‘You WilL riDe,’ the inNkeeper TOld HiM, ‘FROm The Guadalquivir to tHe
gUAdIana, and iF there IS rAiN You may be A mOntH upoN THe roaD.’

ConYNgHam set ouT in the EArLy Morning, AnD as he tHrEw hIs lEg acrOSs
thE saddlE the sun rOse ovER the far misty hiLLs of Ronda, and CONcEPÇiON
VarA awOke from his nIght’S Rest UndeR ThE waLL of an Olive TeRRaCE above
the Bobadilla rOaD, to begIn anoTher day of patiEnt waiting AND Watching
To geT SpEEch with the maid Or the Mistress; foR He had alrEady
iNauguratEd what he lIGHtly callEd ‘aN afFaiR’ wiTH juLia’s flighty
atTENdanT.  THe sun roSe aLso over The PlaIns Of XErEs, and lighTed up
the PiCtUrEsQue Form oF esteban LArRalDe, In tHe sadDLe this Hour aNd
moRe, HaVIng Learnt tHAt cOLoneL MOnReal’S deAtH took PlacE An hOur
befoRe ConynghAm’s ARrivAl In The town Of Xeres de la FrOnTera.  The
letTeR, thEreforE, HAd not beeN delivered to Colonel MonrEAl, and waS
stIll in conyNgham’s posSesSion.

LaRraLDe bestRode a sHockiNg SteED, And haD BUt An iNdIfferent seAT In
tHe sadDlE.  NevErtheleSs, the dust rose beneaTH hiS horse’s feet, anD
hiS spuRS FlAshED iN The SuNLigHT As this man of many Parts hurriEd ON
tOw
 the orange trees, and cha tted affab ly ab out  hi sbusi ness  as being
badi n th ese times of war.  Onc e, in de e d, i t  w as awhite-h a ir e d 
ge nt le man ,w ho  spok e i n Engli sh, and as ked  s ome very nat u ra l question s a s
to the aff air s that  b rou g ht an  En glish man to the to wn of Cor do v a.  Th i s
sweet - s po kenold man explained th a t strangers wo uld do  w e ll t o a voi d all
ques ti ons o f  politi c sa n d  re l igion, whichhe classedt oge ther i none danger ous w ho l e. Neverthele ss,Conyngham  thoug h t thath e perce ived h isanc ient fr ie ndth e  sa m eeve n ing  hurryin gup  thestep s o f  the  Je suit 
Coll ege of La Cam pan ia.Two  days  elap sedan d Con cepçio n Var amade neither ap pear ance norsig n. 
On  t he se c ond ev eni ngConyngh am deci d edto g o  o n alone, prosecuti ng h is 
journey  throu g hth e  sparsel ypop ulat e d  vall ey o f  t he Alcad ia toC iu da d
Real,  T oledo,  a ndMad rid.‘You  willride,’ t he in n keeper told hi m , ‘from the G u ad a l qu i virtothe
Guadian a, a n d if  the r eisr ain y ou ma yb ea  month upon the roa d. ’

Con yngha m set out inthe earlym o r ning, an d as he threw his legacros s
the sadd l e the su n ros e over t he far mi s t y hillsofRon da,  an d Co ncepçion
Vara a woke  f rom his  ni ght’s r est  un der  th ewall of a n olivete rr ac eabo ve
th e  Bobadil la  ro ad , t o beg i n anot her d ay o fpa t ien t waiti n ga n d wa tc hi ng
t o g et  spee ch w i ththe mai d or themis t ress ;fo r he ha d already
ina ug urated wha thelightl y called ‘ an affair’ with Julia’s flighty 
at tenda nt. The sunros e also  ov e r theplains  of X er es, a nd li g h te d u pthe pictur e s que  form  o f Es teban L arralde, in the sa d dle  this hour an d
m ore, h av ing le a rnt  t h atC o lonel Monreal’s  death too kp la ce an hour bef or e Conyn gham’sarriv a l in th e town of  Xeres de  l a Fr o n ter a.  The
le tter, th erefore,h ad no t  b een d eli veredto  Co lonel  Monre a l,and w as
sti ll  in Co nyngh am ’s posse ssion.

Larralde bestro de a s hocki ngsteed, an d h a d b ut an ind iffe rent seatinthe  sadd le.  Neve rthe l es s,t he du st r o se beneat h  h ish o rs e’s feet, a n d his  spur s f l ashedin t he sunlight as th i s man of manypart s hur rie d  onto w
 the_orange trees,_and chatted affably about_his business_as_being
bad in_these_times of war._ Once, indeed,_it was a white-haired
gentleman,_who spoke in_English,_and asked some very natural questions as
to the affairs that brought an Englishman to_the_town of_Cordova.__This
sweet-spoken old man explained that_strangers would do well to_avoid all
questions_of politics and religion, which he classed together_in_one
dangerous whole. _Nevertheless, Conyngham thought that he perceived his
ancient friend the_same evening hurrying up the steps_of the Jesuit
College_of_La_Campania.

Two days elapsed and_Concepçion Vara made neither appearance nor_sign.
On the second evening Conyngham decided_to go on alone, prosecuting his
journey through_the sparsely populated valley of the_Alcadia to Ciudad
Real, Toledo, and_Madrid.

‘You will_ride,’ the innkeeper told him,_‘from the Guadalquivir_to the
Guadiana,_and if there_is rain you may be a_month upon the_road.’

Conyngham set out in the early_morning,_and as he_threw_his_leg across
the_saddle the sun_rose_over the_far_misty hills of Ronda, and Concepçion
Vara_awoke_from his night’s rest under the wall_of an olive terrace_above
the_Bobadilla road, to begin_another day of patient waiting_and watching
to get speech with the_maid or_the mistress;_for he had already
inaugurated what he lightly called ‘an affair’ with_Julia’s flighty
attendant.  The sun rose_also over the plains_of Xeres,_and_lighted up
the picturesque_form_of Esteban_Larralde, in the saddle this hour and
more,_having learnt_that Colonel Monreal’s death took place_an hour
before Conyngham’s arrival_in_the town of Xeres de la_Frontera.  The
letter, therefore, had not_been delivered to Colonel Monreal,_and_was
still_in Conyngham’s possession.

Larralde bestrode a_shocking steed, and had but an_indifferent seat in
the_saddle.  Nevertheless, the dust rose beneath_his_horse’s feet, and
his spurs flashed in_the_sunlight as this man of many_parts_hurried_on
tow