Meynell had nothing more to tell, and, hopeless of extracting any thing more, now took leave.  But when he had gone out of the room, his colonel called him back to inquire where Shortridge was now lodged.  Having given as precise an answer as he could to this question, the adjutant departed, trying as he went, to frame such a definition of a good woman as would fit his view of this case.

This little conversation seemed to have revived L’Isle a good deal.  He looked out of the window and pronounced the wind to have fallen, and that, after all, it was a very pleasant day.  Calling his servant to bring his boots and brush his clothes, he was soon after on the praca of Elvas.

This exhibited a busy scene; for the troops quartered in Elvas created a market, and drew a concourse of people from the surrounding country.  Asses laden with, or just unladen of, country produce, were grouped about the square, each with his nose tied up in a net, that he might not eat his saddle or panniers.  Bullock carts were seen here and there, among them, many of the oxen lying down with their legs doubled under them, taking advantage of the halt to enjoy their siesta.  A crowd of peasants hovered about, and the sonorous Spanish mingling with the abrupt and nasal Portuguese, the short black jackets and montero caps, among the hats and vests, generally brown, showed that many of these men had come across the Spanish border.  Here was the pig merchant, with his unquiet and ear-piercing merchandise, and the wine merchant, with his pitchy goat-skin sacks, full of, and flavoring the vinho verde Colonel Bradshawe so much abhorred.  Here were peasant women, with poultry, and sausages, and goats’-milk cheese; and young girls, persuasively offering for sale the contents of their baskets, oranges, chesnuts, bolotas, and other fruits and nuts.  Here, in the crowd, was a monk; there, a secular priest, and of friars a plenty.  And here, in the midst of them, were the broad-faced English soldiers, touching their caps as L’Isle passed among them—­their faces growing broader as they remarked to each other, that there was still something left of the colonel.  Here, too, were the lounging citizens of Elvas, who might have personified otium cum dignitate, or plain English laziness, but for the presence of some of the gentlemen of the brigade, who were sauntering about with their hands in their pockets, as if caring for nothing, and having nothing to do, or at once too proud and lazy to do it—­not much caring which way their steps led them, but expecting, of course, every one to get out of their way.  Yet a spark of interest would, at times, shine out from them at the sight of a neat figure, or a pretty face, among the rustic belles, whose love of bright and strongly contrasted colors in dress, attracted the eye, and gave variety to the scene.