Myself—­Such is my intention; I can stay here no longer.

Antonio—­The way is far to Madrilati; there are, moreover, wars in the land, and many chories walk about; are you not afraid to journey?

Myself—­I have no fears; every man must accomplish his destiny:  what befalls my body or soul was written in a gabicote a thousand years before the foundation of the world.

Antonio—­I have no fears myself, brother:  the dark night is the same to me as the fair day, and the wild carrascal as the market-place or the chardi; I have got the bar lachi in my bosom, the precious stone to which sticks the needle.

Myself—­You mean the loadstone, I suppose.  Do you believe that a lifeless stone can preserve you from the dangers which occasionally threaten your life?

Antonio—­Brother, I am fifty years old, and you see me standing before you in life and strength; how could that be unless the bar lachi had power?  I have been soldier and contrabandista, and I have likewise slain and robbed the Busne.  The bullets of the Gabine and of the jara canallis have hissed about my ears without injuring me, for I carried the bar lachi. I have twenty times done that which by Busne law should have brought me to the filimicha, yet my neck has never yet been squeezed by the cold garrote.  Brother, I trust in the bar lachi like the Calore of old:  were I in the midst of the gulf of Bombardo without a plank to float upon, I should feel no fear; for if I carried the precious stone, it would bring me safe to shore.  The bar lachi has power, brother.

Myself—­I shall not dispute the matter with you, more especially as I am about to depart from Badajoz:  I must speedily bid you farewell, and we shall see each other no more.

Antonio—­Brother, do you know what brings me hither?

Myself—­I cannot tell, unless it be to wish me a happy journey:  I am not gipsy enough to interpret the thoughts of other people.

Antonio—­All last night I lay awake, thinking of the affairs of Egypt; and when I arose in the morning I took the bar lachi from my bosom, and scraping it with a knife, swallowed some of the dust in aguardiente, as I am in the habit of doing when I have made up my mind; and I said to myself, I am wanted on the frontiers of Castumba on a certain matter.  The strange Caloro is about to proceed to Madrilati; the journey is long, and he may fall into evil hands, peradventure into those of his own blood; for let me tell you, brother, the Cales are leaving their towns and villages, and forming themselves into troops to plunder the Busne, for there is now but little law in the land, and now or never is the time for the Calore to become once more what they were in former times.  So I said, the strange Caloro may fall into the hands of his own blood and be ill-treated by them, which were shame:  I will therefore go with him through the Chim del Manro as far as the frontiers of Castumba, and upon the frontiers of Castumba I will leave the London Caloro to find his own way to Madrilati, for there is less danger in Castumba than in the Chim del Manro, and I will then betake me to the affairs of Egypt which call me from hence.