would gladly have hanged him on the spot, but was obliged to send him to Murcia, as he belonged to the jurisdiction of that city.  It was not, however, till the next day that he was removed thither, and meanwhile he was loaded with abuse and maltreatment by the alcalde and all the people of the place.  The alcalde, moreover, arrested all the rest of the gipsies he could lay hands on, but most of them had made their escape, among others Clement, who was afraid of being seized and discovered.  On the following morning the alcalde, with his officers and a great many other armed men, entered Murcia with a caravan of gipsy captives, among whom were Preciosa and poor Andrew, who was chained on the back of a mule, and was handcuffed and had a fork fixed under his chin.  All Murcia flocked to see the prisoners, for the news of the soldier’s death had been received there; but so great was Preciosa’s beauty that no one looked upon her that day without blessing her.  The news of her loveliness reached the corregidor’s lady, who being curious to see her, prevailed on her husband to give orders that she should not enter the prison to which all the rest of the gipsies were committed.  Andrew was thrust into a dark narrow dungeon, where, deprived of the light of the sun and of that which Preciosa’s presence diffused, he felt as though he should leave it only for his grave.  Preciosa and her grand-mother were taken to the corregidor’s lady, who at once exclaiming, “Well might they praise her beauty,” embraced her tenderly, and never was tired of looking at her.  She asked the old woman what was the girl’s age.  “Fifteen, within a month or two, more or less,” was the reply.  “That would be the age of my poor Constantia,” observed the lady.  “Ah, amigas! how the sight of this young girl has brought my bereavement back afresh to my mind.”

Upon this, Preciosa took hold of the corregidora’s bands, kissed them repeatedly, bathed them with tears, and said, “Senora mia, the gitano who is in custody is not in fault, for he had provocation.  They called him a thief, and he is none; they gave him a blow on the face, though his is such a face that you can read in it the goodness of his soul.  I entreat you, senora, to see that justice is done him, and that the senor corregidor is not too hasty in executing upon him the penalty of the law.  If my beauty has given you any pleasure, preserve it for me by preserving the life of the prisoner, for with it mine ends too.  He is to be my husband, but just and proper impediments have hitherto prevented our union.  If money would avail to obtain his pardon, all the goods of our tribe should be sold by auction, and we would give even more than was asked of us.  My lady, if you know what love is, and have felt and still feel it for your dear husband, have pity on me who love mine tenderly and honestly.”