regular little savages; white men sitting on the stone walls, or wandering slowly along, smoking cigars; and over all this that mild tropical sky, that delicious air, a soft but joyous light; a slumberous, joy-giving, far niente life; and you see an outline of the panorama which I contemplated wandering hither and thither, until the shades of evening advanced and stars came forth on the scene.
Again in my fonda, I prepared myself for the night. I had a neat little bed with clean sheets, and a light coverlet. I obtained a cup of weak tea, some bread, and a night-lamp; my friend Raimund devoting himself to me with the utmost respect and gravity. I was now alone; and the sound of a guitar, accompanied by a tremulous, monotonous, but pleasingly melancholy song, similar in character to the Spanish seguidilla, reached me, and to the sound of this I fell asleep on my cool sacking bed, and passed an excellent night undisturbed by the bloodthirsty robbers that I feared—gnats and fleas.
When I woke next morning, I saw the respectful face of my friend Raimund at my low window come to inquire if I wished for anything. I wished for coffee and an egg; and whilst I was thus breakfasting, La Miranda was announced in such a manner as showed that he was regarded as a power of the first rank.
And before long, I was prepared to receive Don Ildephonso Miranda, which I did in a room adjoining mine, and of the same unpretending character.
Don Ildephonso Miranda whistled to the people of the posada,[1] and they flew forward to receive his commands; he motioned with his hands, and they flew to all distances to fulfil them.
As for myself, La Miranda was really en cabellero
- ↑ Whistling to people of the servant-class is customary in Cuba, and they make use of it also among themselves. The sound is, however, rather a hissing than a whistling sound, like a sharp “H!” and is audible at a considerable distance.
