He was a Guipuzcoan--as good as any man.
"It was about the Senor Mon," he said.

"You wished to hear of him.

He returned to Pampeluna two days ago." The teamster thanked their Excellencies, but he could not accept their hospitality because he had ordered his supper at his hotel.

It was only at the Posada de los Reyes in all Saragossa that one procured the real cuisine of Guipuzcoa.

Yes, he would take a glass of wine.
And he took it with a fine wave of the arm, signifying that he drank to the health of his host.
"Evasio Mon will not leave us long idle," said Sarrion, when the man had gone, and he had hardly spoken when the servant ushered in a second visitor, a man also of the road, who handed to Marcos a crumpled and dirty envelope.