Everyone knows he was a soldier in his younger days.

The Aunt Tomasa remembers seeing him in the cloister with his helmet with horse-hair crest, his sergeant's epaulets, and his rattling broad sword.

He is not afraid of anything, is not easily scandalised, and does not make a fuss about things.

Last year a Portuguese lady arrived here, who nearly drove all the cadets out of their senses with her silk stockings and her big hats.

You know Juanito, and you are aware that he is the son of a nephew of His Eminence who died some years ago.