as an enchantress sprung from her custom of throwing into the river the silver dishes which she used in the sumptuous banquets that were attended by crowds of gentlemen.  A net was spread under the water to hold the dishes and thus they were cleaned.  It hasn’t been twenty years since the river washed the very entrance of the cave, but it has gradually been receding, just as the memory of her is dying out among the people.”

“A beautiful legend!” exclaimed Ben-Zayb.  “I’m going to write an article about it.  It’s sentimental!”

Dona Victorina thought of dwelling in such a cave and was about to say so, when Simoun took the floor instead.

“But what’s your opinion about that, Padre Salvi?” he asked the Franciscan, who seemed to be absorbed in thought.  “Doesn’t it seem to you as though his Grace, instead of giving her a cave, ought to have placed her in a nunnery—­in St. Clara’s, for example?  What do you say?”

There was a start of surprise on Padre Sibyla’s part to notice that Padre Salvi shuddered and looked askance at Simoun.

“Because it’s not a very gallant act,” continued Simoun quite naturally, “to give a rocky cliff as a home to one with whose hopes we have trifled.  It’s hardly religious to expose her thus to temptation, in a cave on the banks of a river—­it smacks of nymphs and dryads.  It would have been more gallant, more pious, more romantic, more in keeping with the customs of this country, to shut her up in St. Clara’s, like a new Eloise, in order to visit and console her from time to time.”

“I neither can nor should pass judgment upon the conduct of archbishops,” replied the Franciscan sourly.

“But you, who are the ecclesiastical governor, acting in the place of our Archbishop, what would you do if such a case should arise?”

Padre Salvi shrugged his shoulders and calmly responded, “It’s not worth while thinking about what can’t happen.  But speaking of legends, don’t overlook the most beautiful, since it is the truest:  that of the miracle of St. Nicholas, the ruins of whose church you may have noticed.  I’m going to relate it to Senor Simoun, as he probably hasn’t heard it.  It seems that formerly the river, as well as the lake, was infested with caymans, so huge and voracious that they attacked bankas and upset them with a slap of the tail.  Our chronicles relate that one day an infidel Chinaman, who up to that time had refused to be converted, was passing in front of the church, when suddenly the devil presented himself to him in the form of a cayman and upset the banka, in order to devour him and carry him off to hell.  Inspired by God, the Chinaman at that moment called upon St. Nicholas and instantly the cayman was changed into a stone.  The old people say that in their time the monster could easily be recognized in the pieces of stone that were left, and, for my part, I can assure you that I have clearly made out the head, to judge from which the monster must have been enormously large.”