The Prime Minister. Kingston William Henry Giles
of the apartment; and there is a shorter one on the opposite side, near the fire. The floor is of clay, perfectly black, and beaten hard, but worn into irregular undulations and holes where most trodden on. We are now describing the past and the present, and probably the future, for many years to come, though we cannot pierce the gloom of the dark abyss of time; but as our business is rather with the past, we prefer adhering to that tense. The further end of the room opened into a sort of stable-yard, from which freely entered at all times several long-legged, thin white swine, with a youthful progeny of grunters, who were allowed to satisfy their inquisitive natures, if not their appetites, by poking their snouts into every pan or utensil they met with in their peregrinations, receiving now and then a gentle rebuke, administered with the bottom of a frying-pan, by the nimble-handed damsel who officiated as chief of the culinary department, accompanied by a no very complimentary epithet, at which they grunted forth their disapprobation, and continued the same proceedings. Besides the pigs, numerous fowls appeared to be welcome visitors, being allowed to establish their roost on the rafters of the roof, in one corner, and to hop about and pick up what escaped the vigilance of the yet more favoured animals. Nor must we forget, having begun with the dumb species, instead of the nobler part of creation, to mention two or three dogs, whose appearance was far from prepossessing, as they stalked about among the guests, in eager expectation of the morsels thrown to them, or of the crumbs which fell from the table. They were of a dirty yellow colour, their heads something like that of a fox, but with bodies lean and gaunt as a wolf, to which race they appeared to belong. Such is the large dog of the country; but there is every gradation of shape, size, and colour, down to the smallest turnspit, to give any specific name to which would be impossible. Having described the dogs, we must now mention the agile Griskenissa, the youthful queen of those regions. She was a laughing-mouthed damsel, her lips rather thick and full, disclosing the most pearly teeth, her nose retroussé, between a pair of large sparkling black eyes, and her figure rather more fully developed, particularly about the bust, than would accord with the Venus de Medicis. A rich bloom brightened the nut-brown tint of her not very delicate complexion, whose dark hue was increased by her occupations over the fire. Her hair was drawn back, fastened in a knot behind, and covered with a coloured handkerchief, a white one being thrown over her shoulders. The sleeves and skirt of her gown being tucked up, exhibited a pair of stout arms and legs of the same build, destitute of stockings or shoes. The noise of her tongue was, as Captain Rolando, in the “Honeymoon,” describes most unjustly that of her sex in general, like the clatter of a mill; the more she moved about, the faster it went, the grist being the questions and jokes of her guests, to which she failed not to give some sharp repartee. She was aided in the actual work of cooking by an old crone, who, now bending over the fire, was engaged in stirring a mess of broth simmering in a large pot, while a little boy, clothed in the smallest quantity of raiment which could possibly cover his body, was employed in bringing wood to feed the flame. The master of the house generally walked about with his hands in his pockets, a cigarito in his mouth, and his cap set rakingly on one side, by far too fine a gentleman to attend to the wants of his guests, though occasionally, to those of higher degree, he would condescend to make a low bow as they departed, provided they paid well, and shared with him a bottle or so of his best wine.
The sun had some time set, the apartment being thrown into obscurity, except near the blaze of the fire, and at the further end of the long table, where, round a brass lamp of that elegant shape used by the Romans, and still to be seen in Italy, were seated the landlord and four or five of his guests, deeply immersed in some game of cards, their countenances exhibiting all the eager passions of men who had large sums at stake. Indeed, several gold and silver pieces were seen to change hands, to the evident rage of the losers; though, from the dress and appearance of the men, one would not have expected to find them possessed of so large an amount. Their costume was soiled, and patched with divers shades of cloth: it consisted of short braided jackets, and red waistcoats, loose trowsers and long gaiters, with a red sash round the waist, in which was stuck, without any attempt at concealment, a long knife, in a sheath, towards whose hilt the hand seemed to have a natural tendency to move. On their heads they wore round, low-crowned hats of black felt, with rather broad brims, which, pulled a little forward, effectually concealed the features.
At the smaller table, near the fire, were several other people, discussing in silence their suppers of cabbage broth, inattentive to what was going forward at the other end of the room. Two hours of the night had passed away, the card party yet eagerly proceeding in their game, with slight variations of fortune, when the clatter of horses’ hoofs was heard, and the boy was loudly summoned to hold a lantern while the animals were stalled and fed; and, soon afterwards, two men, wrapped in large riding cloaks, entered, and glancing at the guests near the fire, advanced towards the end of the long table. The gamblers, looking up for a moment, received them as friends; but their interest in the game was far too intense to permit their attention to be withdrawn for a longer period; the others looking patiently on, till one of the former sprang from his seat, exclaiming, “By St. Anthony, I play no more: curses on the game; I’ve lost my last testoon, and owe more to boot. How to pay my debts I know not.”
One of the new comers, fixing his eyes on him, smiled significantly. “What, Salvador,” he said, “know you not how a man of spirit may best recruit his exhausted finances? Banish all fears, I will soon put you in the way of it.”
“Thanks, senhor, I have trod it before,” answered Salvador; “but I like not the sight of the gibbet in the distance.”
“Fool!” muttered the other; “no man of courage is frightened at such a phantom.”
What further might have been said was cut short by another of the party dashing the cards to the ground, and trampling on them almost with screams, in his fury at having become the loser of all his wealth, darting fierce scowls at those who were the gainers, particularly the landlord, who had managed to pay himself well for the time occupied in the game, and who, now calling to the boy, ordered him to pick up the scattered pack.
The game now terminated; and the party, having again resumed their seats, made many inquiries of their newly-arrived friends. “We little expected to see you here so soon,” said the Landlord; “what made you leave Lisbon so suddenly?”
“A cursed mistake we committed last night, when two of our friends fell into the hands of justice. We had been engaged by the Conde de San Vincente, who gives us plenty of employment, to get rid of a rival of his in the affections of a certain lady; and, after following our man for some way, who we knew would make no resistance, and, feeling quite sure of him, just as Miguel was about to give him his quietus, out he whips his rapier, and uses it so manfully, after knocking down Miguel, that he kept us at bay till a friend came to his assistance; but we should have got the better of them both, when, who should pass by but the devil, in the shape of Sebastiaö Jozé de Carvalho himself, who forthwith seized on Miguel and Baltar, whom he has clapped into prison; and we, thinking Lisbon may be too hot for us, came off here; for he is not apt to let any escape whom he may wish to find.”
“Ah! San Vincente is a man I like to serve,” said another. “His very cowardice is a recommendation, as he first pays one well to commit a deed he dare not do himself, and then double to keep it concealed.”
“Yes, if it were not for the hatred of the proud fidalgos for each other, we honest, humble men should not be able to exist.”
“Ay, thank the saints, they give us work enough to keep our hands in practice, though scarce enough to let us live like gentlemen,” cried another.
“Forsooth, the profession has fallen into much disrepute lately, since pretenders to it offer their services to commit a murder for a couple of crowns. Such shabby villains ought to be scouted from society,” exclaimed a fourth. “When a man does undertake to do a piece of work, let it be for something, or he is acting dishonestly towards others, besides being guilty of a meanness of which any gentleman ought to be ashamed.”
“Silence, Senhores, silence!” exclaimed the Landlord, looking round; “your conversation is becoming of a nature not fit for common ears: and see, some persons at the other table are opening theirs to listen.”
“Never fear,” answered one of the last comers; “we are not ashamed of our profession, as long as it is exercised with credit.”
“That