The joyous company within heard the report of their scout, and were in a terrible fright.  Escalanta and Cariharta put on their clogs in great haste, Gananciosa threw down her broom, and Monipodio his broken plate, every instrument sinking at once into silence.  Chiquiznaque lost his joyous grin, and stood dumb as a fish; Repolido trembled with fear, and Maniferro looked pale with anxiety.  But these various demonstrations were exhibited only for a moment,—­in the next, all that goodly brotherhood had disappeared.  Some rushed across a kind of terrace, and gained another court; others clambered over the roof, and so passed into a neighbouring alley.  Never did the sound of a fowling piece, or a sudden peal of thunder, more effectually disperse a flock of careless pigeons, than did the news of the alcalde’s arrival that select company assembled in the house of the Senor Monipodio.  Rinconete and Cortadillo, not knowing whither to flee, stood in their places waiting to see what would be the end of that sudden storm, which finished simply enough by the return of the sentinel, who came to say that the alcalde had passed through the whole length of the street without seeming to have any troublesome suspicions respecting them, or even appearing to think of their house at all.

While Monipodio was in the act of receiving this last report, there came to the door a gentleman in the prime of youth, and dressed in the half-rustic manner suitable to the morning, or to one residing in the country.  Monipodio caused this person to enter the house with himself; he then sent to look for Chiquiznaque, Repolido, and Maniferro, with orders that they should come forth from their hiding places, but that such others as might be with them should remain where they were.

Rinconete and Cortadillo having remained in the court, could hear all the conversation which took place between Monipodio and the gentleman who had just arrived, and who began by inquiring how it happened that the job he had ordered had been so badly done.  At this point of the colloquy, Chiquiznaque appeared, and Monipodio asked him if he had accomplished the work with which he had been entrusted—­namely, the knife-slash of fourteen stitches.[38]

[38] “At that time,” remarks Viardot, “while wounds were still sewed up by the surgeons, the importance or extent of the cut made was estimated by the number of the stitches.”

“Which of them was it,” inquired Chiquiznaque, “that of the merchant at the Cross-ways?” “Exactly,” replied the gentleman.  “Then I’ll tell you how the matter went,” responded the bravo.  “Last night, as I watched before the very door of his house, and the man appeared just before to the ringing of the Ave Maria, I got near him, and took the measure of his face with my eyes; but I perceived it was so small that it was impossible, totally impossible, to find room in it for a cut of fourteen stitches.  So that, perceiving myself unable to fulfil my destructions”—­“Instructions you mean,” said the gentleman;—­“Well, well, instructions if you will,” admitted Chiquiznaque,—­“seeing that I could not find room for the number of stitches I had to make, because of the narrowness, I say, and want of space in the visage of the merchant, I gave the cut to a lacquey he had with him, to the end that I might not have my journey for nothing; and certainly his allowance may pass for one of the best quality.”