by good fortune all your servants are fast asleep, and should your cries bring them hither, they can do no more than kill me in your very arms; and if they do, your reputation will not be the less blighted for all that.’  In fine, I effected my purpose against her will and by main force, and left her so stupefied by the calamity that had befallen her, that she either could not or would not utter one word to me.  Quitting the place as I had entered it, I rode to the house of one of my friends, who resided within two leagues of my victim’s abode.  The lady subsequently removed to another residence, and two years passed without my seeing her, or making any attempt to do so.  At the end, of that time I heard that she was dead.

“About three weeks since I received a letter from a man who had been the deceased lady’s steward, earnestly entreating me to come to him, as he had something to communicate to me which deeply concerned my happiness and honour.  I went to him, very far from dreaming of any such thing as I was about to hear from him, and found him at the point of death.  He told me in brief terms that his lady on her deathbed had made known to him what had happened between her and me, how she had become pregnant, had made a pilgrimage to our Lady of Guadalupe to conceal her misfortune, and had been delivered in this inn of a daughter named Costanza.  The man gave me the tokens upon which she was to be delivered to me, namely the piece of chain and the parchment, and with them thirty thousand gold crowns, which the lady had left as a marriage portion for her daughter.  At the same time, he told me that it was the temptation to appropriate that money which had so long prevented him from obeying the dying behest of his mistress, but now that he was about to be called to the great account, he was eager to relieve his conscience by giving me up the money and putting me in the way to find my daughter.  Returning home with the money and the tokens, I related the whole story to Don Juan de Avendano, and he has been kind enough to accompany me to this city.”

Don Diego had but just finished his narrative when some one was heard shouting at the street-door, “Tell Tomas Pedro, the hostler, that they are taking his friend the Asturiano to prison.”  On hearing this the corregidor immediately sent orders to the alguazil to bring in his prisoner, which was forthwith done.  In came the Asturian with his mouth all bloody.  He had evidently been very roughly handled, and was held with no tender grasp by the alguazil.  The moment he entered the room he was thunderstruck at beholding his own father and Avendano’s, and to escape recognition he covered his face with a handkerchief, under pretence of wiping away the blood.  The corregidor inquired what that young man had done who appeared to have been so roughly handed.  The alguazil replied that he was a water-carrier, known by the name of the Asturian, and the boys in the street used to shout after him, “Give up the tail,