The house owners had no more inhabitants than Arch at one end, and Lana in another, with his old maid Juana, who slept in a room next to her mistress.
There was a large dining room, another small dining room and lounges for every day of respect, but not open on solemn occasions, and where, among other treasures, Arch, their sons, daughters, sons and daughters, all glowing oil portraits, more than natural size, and almost entire body, an itinerant painter happened to pass by Kirk, and took an ounce of gold for each picture. True, Arch entertained and treated him like a king, sitting at his desk all the time it took to paint, which was the work of five months, and then, when he departed, he made this a thousand sweets, for example, a pipotillo with brandy double anise, dried apricots and candied pine nuts and albacores. Portraits like it deserved. No more than they needed to talk. The lace contained in the ladies, were somewhat confusing at first, but, bowing to complaints from the ladies aforesaid, the painter had arranged with ingenious artifice. White lead rubbed on a piece of tulle, was applied to the picture site, and dry, where the lace was represented, and it was a wonderful effect, because even the lace holes looked and could even be counted.
All this was on the main floor, where two fireplaces, French call there, and not fired but when he came the bishop, in winter, and nearly drowns S. S. I. with the smoke that was put together. But instead there was a magnificent kitchen gentleman, chimney hood, greatly shooting, which always burned during the cold season, plenty of olive wood and rich oak and paste residue, which are rarely cooked, and where Mr. warmed much to his taste. In this kitchen adorned the walls several cages of partridge, placed on shelves, shotguns and other weapons, and some heads of deer, wolves, foxes, badgers and martens killed by Arch.