Here were chairs and a little table placed in the shade of the
vines. When he had closed the door of the patio and we were seated,
he rang a silver bell that stood upon the table, and a girl, young and
fair, appeared from the house, dressed in a quaint Spanish dress.
'Bring wine,' said my host.
The wine was brought, white wine of Oporto such as I had never tasted
before.
'Your health, senor?' And my host stopped, his glass in his hand, and
looked at me inquiringly.
'Diego d'Aila,' I answered.
'Humph,' he said. 'A Spanish name, or perhaps an imitation Spanish name,
for I do not know it, and I have a good head for names.'
'That is my name, to take or to leave, senor?'--And I looked at him in
turn.
'Andres de Fonseca,' he replied bowing, 'a physician of this city, well
known enough, especially among the fair. Well, Senor Diego, I take your
name, for names are nothing, and at times it is convenient to change
them, which is nobody's business except their owners'. I see that you
are a stranger in this city--no need to look surprised, senor, one who
is familiar with a town does not gaze and stare and ask the path of
passers-by, nor does a native of Seville walk on the sunny side of the
street in summer. And now, if you will not think me impertinent, I will
ask you what can be the business of so healthy a young man with my rival
yonder?' And he nodded towards the house of the famous physician.
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