that he forgave the injury she had done him in stealing his treasure, since she had more than made atonement by restoring it.  The only thing that grieved him was that, knowing Preciosa’s quality, she should have betrothed her to a gipsy, and worse than that, to a thief and murderer.  “Alas, senor mio,” said Preciosa, “he is neither a gipsy nor a thief, although he has killed a man, but then it was one who had wounded his honour, and he could not do less than show who he was, and kill him.”

“What! he is not a gipsy, my child?” said Dona Guiomar.

“Certainly not,” said the old gitana; and she related the story of Andrew Caballero, that he was the son of Don Francisco de Carcamo, knight of Santiago; that his name was Don Juan de Carcamo, of the same order; and that she had kept his clothes after he had changed them for those of a gipsy.  She likewise stated the agreement which Preciosa and Don Juan had made not to marry until after two years of mutual trial; and she put in their true light the honourable conduct of both, and the suitable condition of Don Juan.

The parents were as much surprised at this as at the recovery of their daughter.  The corregidor sent the gitana for Don Juan’s clothes, and she came back with them accompanied by a gipsy who carried them.  Previously to her return, Preciosa’s parents put a thousand questions to her, and she replied with so much discretion and grace, that even though they had not recognised her for their child, they must have loved her.  To their inquiry whether she had any affection for Don Juan, she replied, not more than that to which she was bound in gratitude towards one who had humbled himself to become a gipsy for her sake; but even this should not extend farther than her parents desired.  “Say no more, daughter Preciosa,” said her father; “(for I wish you to retain this name of Preciosa in memory of your loss and your recovery); as your father, I take it upon myself to establish you in a position not derogatory to your birth.”

Preciosa sighed, and her mother shrewdly suspecting that the sigh was prompted by love for Don Juan, said to the corregidor, “Since Don Juan is a person of such rank, and is so much attached to our daughter, I think, senor, it would not be amiss to bestow her upon him.”

“Hardly have we found her to-day,” he replied, “and already would you have us lose her?  Let us enjoy her company for a while at least, for when she marries she will be ours no longer but her husband’s.”

“You are right, senor,” said the lady, “but give orders to bring out Don Juan, for he is probably lying in some filthy dungeon.”

“No doubt he is,” said Preciosa, “for as a thief and homicide, and above all as a gipsy, they will have given him no better lodging.”

“I will go see him,” said the corregidor, “as if for the purpose of taking his confession.  Meanwhile, senora, I again charge you not to let any one know this history until I choose to divulge it, for so it behoves my office.”  Then embracing Preciosa he went to the prison where Don Juan was confined, and entered his cell, not allowing any one to accompany him.