From the windows, then, one beheld a typical English summer-scape, but
the library itself struck an altogether more exotic note. There were
many glazed bookcases of a garish design in ebony and gilt, and these
were laden with a vast collection of works in almost every European
language, reflecting perhaps the cosmopolitan character of the
colonel's household. There was strange Spanish furniture upholstered in
perforated leather and again displaying much gilt. There were suits of
black armour and a great number of Moorish ornaments. The pictures were
fine but sombre, and all of the Spanish school.

One Velasquez in particular I noted with surprise, reflecting that,
assuming it to be an authentic work of the master, my entire worldly
possessions could not have enabled me to buy it. It was the portrait of
a typical Spanish cavalier and beyond doubt a Menendez. In fact, the
resemblance between the haughty Spanish grandee, who seemed about to
step out of the canvas and pick a quarrel with the spectator, and
Colonel Don Juan himself was almost startling. Evidently, our host had
imported most of his belongings from Cuba.

"Gentlemen," he said, as we entered, "make yourselves quite at home, I
beg. All my poor establishment contains is for your entertainment and
service."

He drew up two long, low lounge chairs, the arms provided with
receptacles to contain cooling drinks; and the mere sight of these
chairs mentally translated me to the Spanish Main, where I pictured
them set upon the veranda of that hacienda which had formerly been our
host's residence.