"Now, let us talk about our journey," the muleteer said, when he had taken two or three whiffs at his cigarette.

"Nita tells me that you wish, if possible, to join your army near Badajoz.

That suits me well, for I have orders from a merchant here to fetch him twelve mule loads of sherry from Xeres; and Badajoz is, therefore, on my way.

The merchant has a permit, signed by Marmont, for me to pass unmolested by any French troops; saying that the wine is intended for his use, and that of his staff.

If it were not for that, there would be small chance, indeed, of his ever getting it.