“I told you before, nina,” said Don Juan, otherwise Andrew Caballero, “that you were right on every point except as to the fear you entertain that I am not quite a man of my word.  In that respect you are certainly mistaken.  The word that I pledge in the field I fulfil in the town, or wherever I may be, without waiting to be asked; for no man can esteem himself a gentleman, who yields in the least to the vice of falsehood.  My father will give you alms for God’s sake and for mine; for in truth I gave all I had this morning to some ladies, of whom I would not venture to assert that they are as obliging as they are beautiful, one of them especially.”

Hearing this, Christina said to her companions, “May I be hanged, girls, if he is not talking of the three pieces of eight he gave us this morning.”

“No, that can’t be,” one of them observed; “for he said they were ladies, and we are none; and being so true-spoken as he says he is, he would not lie in this matter.”

“Oh, but,” said Christina, “that is not a lie of any moment that is told without injury to anybody, but for the advantage and credit of him who tells it.  Be that as it may, I see he neither gives us anything, nor asks us to dance.”

The old gipsy now came into the room and said, “Make haste, granddaughter; for it is late, and there is much to be done, and more to be said.”

“What is it, grandmother?” said Preciosa, “A boy or a girl?”

“A boy, and a very fine one.  Come along, Preciosa, and you shall hear marvels.”

“God grant the mother does not die of her after pains,” said the granddaughter.

“We will take all possible care of her.  She has had a very good time, and the child is a perfect beauty.”

“Has any lady been confined?” said Andrew’s father.

“Yes, senor,” replied the old Gitana:  “but it is such a secret, that no one knows of it except Preciosa, myself, and one other person.  So we cannot mention the lady’s name.”

“Well, we don’t want to know it,” said one of the gentlemen present; “but God help the lady who trusts her secret to your tongues, and her honour to your aid.”

“We are not all bad,” replied Preciosa; “perhaps there may be one among us who piques herself on being as trusty and as true as the noblest man in this room.  Let us begone, grandmother; for here we are held in little esteem, though in truth we are neither thieves nor beggars.”

“Do not be angry, Preciosa,” said Andrew’s father.  “Of you at least I imagine no one can presume anything ill, for your good looks are warrant for your good conduct.  Do me the favour to dance a little with your companions.  I have here a doubloon for you with two faces, and neither of them as good as your own, though they are the faces of two kings.”