“I am delighted to see you, my good cousin,” said Don Juan, “and to find you as well as I always wish you.  Embrace this gentleman, cousin; this is Don Diego de Carriazo, a great senor and my friend.”

“I am already acquainted with the senor Don Diego,” replied the corregidor, “and am his most obedient servant.”

After a further interchange of civilities they passed into another room, where they remained alone with the innkeeper, who said as he produced the chain, “The senor corregidor knows what you are come for, Don Diego de Carriazo.  Be pleased to produce the links that are wanting to this chain; his worship will show the parchment which he holds, and let us come to the proof for which I have been so long waiting.”

“It appears, then,” said Don Diego, “that it will not be necessary to explain to the senor corregidor the reason of our coming, since you have done so already, senor landlord.”

“He told me something,” said the corregidor, “but he has left much untold which I long to know.  Here is the parchment.”

Don Diego produced that which he had brought; the two were put together and found to fit accurately into each other; and between every two letters of the innkeeper’s portion, which as we have said were TIITEREOE there now appeared one of the following series HSSHTUTKN, the whole making together the words, This is the true token.  The six links of the chain brought by Don Diego were then compared with the larger fragment, and found to correspond exactly.

“So far all is clear,” said the corregidor; “it now remains for us to discover, if it be possible, who are the parents of this very beautiful lady.”

“Her father,” said Don Diego, “you see in me; her mother is not living, and you must be content with knowing that she was a lady of such rank that I might have been her servant.  But though I conceal her name, I would not have you suppose that she was in any wise culpable, however manifest and avowed her fault may appear to have been.  The story I will now briefly relate to you will completely exonerate her memory.

“You must know, then, that Costanza’s mother, being left a widow by a man of high rank, retired to an estate of hers, where she lived a calm sequestered life among her servants and vassals.  It chanced one day when I was hunting, that I found myself very near her house and determined to pay her a visit.  It was siesta time when I arrived at her palace (for I can call it nothing else):  giving my horse to one of my servants, I entered, and saw no one till I was in the very room in which she lay asleep on a black ottoman.  She was extremely handsome; the silence, the loneliness of the place, and the opportunity, awakened my guilty desires, and without pausing to reflect, I locked the door, woke her, and holding her firmly in my grasp said, ’No cries, senora! they would only serve to proclaim your dishonour; no one has seen me enter this room, for