Night arrived; and about ten they took Andrew out of prison without handcuffs and fetters, but not without a great chain with which his body was bound from head to foot.  In this way he arrived, unseen by any but those who had charge of him, in the corregidor’s house, was silently and cautiously admitted into a room, and there left alone.  A confessor presently entered and bade him confess, as he was to die next day.  “With great pleasure I will confess,” replied Andrew; “but why do they not marry me first?  And if I am to be married, truly it is a sad bridal chamber that awaits me.”

Dona Guiomar, who heard all this, told her husband that the terrors he was inflicting on Don Juan were excessive, and begged he would moderate them, lest they should cost him his life.  The corregidor assented, and called out to the confessor that he should first marry the gipsy to Preciosa, after which the prisoner would confess, and commend himself with all his heart to God, who often rains down his mercies at the moment when hope is most parched and withering.  Andrew was then removed to a room where there was no one but Dona Guiomar, the corregidor, Preciosa, and two servants of the family.  But when Preciosa saw Don Juan in chains, his face all bloodless, and his eyes dimmed with recent weeping, her heart sank within her, and she clutched her mother’s arm for support.  “Cheer up, my child,” said the corregidora, kissing her, “for all you now see will turn to your pleasure and advantage.”  Knowing nothing of what was intended, Preciosa could not console herself; the old gipsy was sorely disturbed, and the bystanders awaited the issue in anxious suspense.

“Senor Vicar,” said the corregidor, “this gitano and gitana are the persons whom your reverence is to marry.”

“That I cannot do,” replied the priest, “unless the ceremony be preceded by the formalities required in such cases.  Where have the banns been published?  Where is the license of my superior, authorising the espousals?”

“The inadvertance has been mine,” said the corregidor; “but I will undertake to get the license from the bishop’s deputy.”

“Until it comes then, your worships will excuse me,” said the priest, and without another word, to avoid scandal, he quitted the house, leaving them all in confusion.

“The padre has done quite right,” said the corregidor, “and it may be that it was by heaven’s providence, to the end that Andrew’s execution might be postponed; for married to Preciosa he shall assuredly be, but first the banns must be published, and thus time will be gained, and time often works a happy issue out of the worst difficulties.  Now I want to know from Andrew, should matters take such a turn, that without any more of those shocks and perturbations, he should become the husband of Preciosa, would he consider himself a happy man, whether as Andrew Caballero, or as Don Juan de Carcamo?”

As soon as Don Juan heard himself called by his true name, he said, “Since Preciosa has not chosen to confine herself to silence, and has discovered to you who I am, I say to you, that though my good fortune should make me monarch of the world, she would still be the sole object of my desires; nor would I aspire to have any blessing besides, save that of heaven.”