"
While we were diverting ourselves with his simple drollery, a
solitary beggar approached, who had almost the look of a pilgrim. He
had a venerable gray beard, and was evidently very old, supporting
himself on a staff, yet age had not bowed him down; he was tall and
erect, and had the wreck of a fine form. He wore a round Andalusian
hat, a sheep-skin jacket, and leathern breeches, gaiters, and sandals.
His dress, though old and patched, was decent, his demeanor manly, and
he addressed us with the grave courtesy that is to be remarked in
the lowest Spaniard. We were in a favorable mood for such a visitor;
and in a freak of capricious charity gave him some silver, a loaf of
fine wheaten bread, and a goblet of our choice wine of Malaga. He
received them thankfully, but without any grovelling tribute of
gratitude. Tasting the wine, he held it up to the light, with a slight
beam of surprise in his eye, then quaffing it off at a draught, "It is
many years," said he, "since I have tasted such wine. It is a
cordial to an old man's heart." Then, looking at the beautiful wheaten
loaf, "Bendito sea tal pan!" "Blessed be such bread!" So saying, he
put it in his wallet. We urged him to eat it on the spot. "No,
senores," replied he, "the wine I had either to drink or leave; but
the bread I may take home to share with my family."
Our man Sancho sought our eye, and reading permission there, gave
the old man some of the ample fragments of our repast, on condition,
however, that he should sit down and make a meal.
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