In four
hours they reached the boundary of the Marquis of Ribaldo's estate.
Going into a wood they assumed the disguises, packed their own
clothes in a wallet, and hid this away in a clump of bushes. Then
they again started -- Gerald Burke with his arm in a sling and
Geoffrey limping along with the aid of a thick stick he had cut in
the wood.
On arriving at the village, a quarter of a mile from the gates of
the mansion, they went into a small wine shop and called for two
measures of the cheapest wine and a loaf of bread. Here they sat
for some time, listening to the conversation of the peasants who
frequented the wine shop. Sometimes a question was asked of the
wayfarers. Gerald replied, for his companion's Spanish although
fluent was not good enough to pass as that of a native. He replied
to the question as to where they had received their hurts that they
were survivors of the Armada, and grumbled that it was hard indeed
that men who had fought in the Netherlands and had done their duty
to their country should be turned adrift to starve.
"We have enough to pay for our supper and a night's lodging," he
said, "but where we are going to take our meal tomorrow is more
than I can say, unless we can meet with some charitable people."
"If you take your place by the roadside tomorrow morning," one
of the peasants said, "you may obtain charity from Donna Inez de
Ribaldo.
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