“You’ve a deal to say for yourself, my friend,” said the landlord; “shut your mouth and mind your business.”

While this colloquy was going on Carriazo had harnessed the ass, jumped on his back, and set off to the river, leaving Avendano highly delighted at witnessing his jovial resolution.

Here then, we have Avendano and Carriazo changed, God save the mark! into Tomas Pedro, a hostler, and Lope Asturiano, a water-carrier:  transformations surpassing those of the long-nosed poet.  No sooner had la Argueello heard that they were hired, than she formed a design upon Asturiano, and marked him for her own, resolving to regale him in such a manner, that, if he was ever so shy, she would make him as pliant as a glove.  The prudish Gallegan formed a similar design upon Avendano, and, as the two women were great friends, being much together in their business by day, and bed-fellows at night, they at once confided their amorous purposes to each other; and that night they determined to begin the conquest of their two unimpassioned swains.  Moreover they agreed that they must, in the first place, beg them not to be jealous about anything they might see them do with their persons; for girls could hardly regale their friends within doors, unless they put those without under contribution.  “Hold your tongues, lads,” said they, apostrophising their absent lovers, “hold your tongues and shut your eyes; leave the timbrel in the hands that can play it, and let those lead the dance that know how, and no pair of canons in this city will be better regaled than you will be by our two selves.”

While the Gallegan and la Argueello were settling matters in this way, our good friend, Lope Asturiano, was on his way to the river, musing upon his beloved tunny fisheries and on his sudden change of condition.  Whether it was for this reason, or that fate ordained it so, it happened that as he was riding down a steep and narrow lane, he ran against another water-carrier’s ass, which was coming, laden, up-hill; and, as his own was fresh and lively and in good condition, the poor, half-starved, jaded brute that was toiling up hill, was knocked down, the pitchers were broken, and the water spilled.  The driver of the fallen ass, enraged by this disaster, immediately flew upon the offender, and pommelled him soundly before poor Lope well knew where he was.  At last, his senses were roused with a vengeance, and seizing his antagonist with both hands by the throat, he dashed him to the ground.  That was not all, for, unluckily, the man’s head struck violently against a stone; the wound was frightful, and bled so profusely, that Lope thought he had killed him.  Several other water-carriers who were on their way to and from the river, seeing their comrade so maltreated, seized Lope and held him fast, shouting, “Justice! justice! this water-carrier has murdered a man.”  And all the while they beat and thumped him lustily.  Others ran to the fallen man, and found that his skull