The result seemed, at length, to prove satisfactory, the presence of
the ladies probably removing any fears of violence.
The door was thrown open, and one, who seemed to be the master of the
house, stepped out with an air of frank hospitality to receive their
request for shelter. Begging them to alight, he called out for
"Manoel! Manoel!" who soon showed himself in the shape of a young
clown, crawling out from behind a heap of straw in a neighboring shed,
and who was ordered to assist in unloading the mules and taking care
of the horses.
Tired and thirsty, and glad to find shelter, the ladies entered the
house, where they were met by two young women, unmistakably the
daughters of the host. Their sparkling eyes and coal-black hair, their
round faces and regular features, were like his; and they were only
less swarthy, from being less exposed to the sun. Their dress was in
fashion, but commonly worn by the peasant women--the jacket and
petticoat--but smarter, and of more costly stuffs than usual. Their
feet, too, were bare, but small and well-formed, betraying little
indurating familiarity with the rough paths around them.
Had they preserved their pedigree, this family would have found many
an ancestor among the Lusitanian Moors, and afforded the most striking
among the many proofs the travelers had met with, that many a
Mohammedan, when the crescent waned before the cross, had preferred
his country to his faith.
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