All this with a contemplative grandeur of demeanour worthy of larger
if not better things.

In the roadway at the side of the broad promenade a carriage and
pair followed this gentleman--carriage and horses which were
beautiful even in this land of horses. For this was Cipriani de
Lloseta de Mallorca, a great man in Barcelona, if he wished it, a
greater in his own little island of Majorca, whether he wished it or
not.

Leading out of this same fascinating Rambla, to the left, up towards
the impenetrable fortress of Juich--impenetrable excepting once, and
then it was the pestilent Englishman, as usual--leading then to the
left is the Calle de la Paz. In the Street of the Peace there is a
house, on the left hand also, into the door of which one could not
only drive a coach and four, but eke a load of straw. Moreover, the
driver could go to sleep and leave it to the horses, for there is
plenty of space. This is the Casa Lloseta, the town residence since
time immemorial of the family of that name. There are servants at
the door, there are servants on the broad marble staircase, there
are servants everywhere! for the Spaniard is unapproachable in the
gentle art of leaving things to others. In the patio, or marble
courtyard, there plays a monotonous little fountain, peacefully
plashing away the sunny hours.

In England el Senor Conde de Lloseta de Mallorca would be looked
upon as a mystery, because he lived in a large house by himself;
because it was not known what his tastes might be; because the
interviewer interviewed him not, and because the Society rags had no