In the most unamiable of tempers did the slave-speculator ride back down
the avenue. So out of sorts was he at the result of his interview, that
he did not think of unfolding his blue umbrella to protect himself from
the hot rays of the sun, now striking vertically downward. On the
contrary, he used the _parapluie_ for a very different purpose--every
now and then belabouring the ribs of his mule with it: as if to rid
himself of his spleen by venting it on the innocent mongrel.
Nor did he go in silence, although he was alone. In a kind of
involuntary soliloquy he kept muttering, as he rode on, long strings of
phrases denunciatory of the host whose roof he had just quitted.
The daughter, too, of that host came in for a share of his muttered
denunciations, which at times, assumed the form of a menace.