This we saw, but could not prevent; such was
the police of Spain then, nor has it improved since.
This was the last time I ventured on shore at night, except to go once
with a party of our officers to the house of the Spanish admiral, who
had a very pretty niece, and was _liberale_ enough not to frown on
us poor heretics. She was indeed a pretty creature: her lovely black
eyes, long eyelashes, and raven hair, betrayed a symptom of Moorish
blood, at the same time that her ancient family-name and high
good-breeding gave her the envied appellation of _Vieja Christiana_.
This fair creature was pleased to bestow a furtive glance of
approbation on my youthful form and handsome dress. My vanity was
tickled. I spoke French to her: she understood it imperfectly, and
pretended to know still less of it, from the hatred borne by all the
Spaniards at that time to the French nation.
We improved our time, however, which was but short; and, before
we parted, perfectly understood each other. I thought I could be
contented to give up everything, and reside with her in the wilds of
Spain.
The time of our departure came, and I was torn away from my Rosaritta,
not without the suspicions of my captain and shipmates that I had
been a too highly favoured youth. This was not true. I loved the dear
angel, but never had wronged her; and I went to sea in a mood which I
sometimes thought might end in an act of desperation: but salt water
is an admirable specific against love, at least against such love as
that was.
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