“Now, then,” said he, in an ironical tone, “perhaps Don Pedro will oblige the company; although perhaps the real way to oblige them will be by not attempting that of which he is not capable.”

Stung with this sarcasm, and flushed with wine, I forgot my prudence.  Snatching the guitar from him, after a prelude which created the greatest astonishment of all present, I commenced one of my most successful airs:  I sang it in my best style, and it electrified the whole party.  Shouts proclaimed my victory, and the defeat of my relative.  Some embraced me in their enthusiasm, and all loudly encored; but as soon as there was a moment’s silence, I heard a voice behind me observe—­“Either that is the monk Anselmo’s voice, or the devil’s.”

I started at the words, and turned round to the speaker, but he had mingled with the crowd, and I could not discover who it was.  I perceived that my relative had followed him on; and I now cursed my own imprudence.  As soon as I could, I made my escape from the company, and returned home.  As I afterwards found out, my relative had immediately communicated with the person who had made the observation.  He was one of the priests who knew me at Seville.  From him, my cousin gained the information that brother Anselmo had left the convent about five years ago, and not having returned, it was thought that an accident had happened to him.  But a discovery had since been made, which led them to suppose, that brother Anselmo had, for some time, been carrying on a system of deception.  You may remember I stated, that when I resumed my worldly apparel to introduce myself as the son of Donna Celia, I changed the dress at my lodgings.  I locked up my friar’s dress and the false tonsure in the chest, intending to have returned, and destroyed it; but I quite forgot it, and left Seville with the key of my lodgings in my pocket.  The landlord waited until his rent was due, when, not hearing anything of me, he broke open the door and found the chest.  This he opened, and discovered the false tonsure and friar’s gown.  Knowing the monastic order to which it belonged, and suspecting some mischief, he took it to our convent, and all the habits of the monks being numbered in the inside, it was immediately recognised as mine:  the false tonsure also betrayed that I must have been breaking through the rules of my order, and the most rigorous search after me was made for some time without success.  Possessed of this information, my vindictive relative repaired to Seville to ascertain the exact date of my quitting the convent, and found that it was about a fortnight previous to Donna Celia having quitted Seville.  He then repaired to the landlord for further information.  The landlord stated that the lodgings had been taken by a monk, for his brother, who had occupied them.  He described the brother’s person, which exactly corresponded with mine; and my relation was convinced that the monk Anselmo and Don Pedro were one and the