city with the intention of accomplishing the deed (which he did later) in his own house; but before entering it he was informed by a page that his wife had gone, disguised as a man, to the house of Joan de Messa, where she had often gone in the same dress.  After receiving this information, he sought his retinue, taking counsel with his servant and three captains, whom he placed in four streets in order to let no one pass.  The governor alone arrived at the house at the very moment that his wife entered, and was going upstairs with Joan de Messa, and behind them a very noted pilot, on account of whom the ship that I mentioned above was celebrated.  The governor attacked him and pierced him with a mortal thrust.  With that he rushed out of the house, calling for confession; but, those who guarded the street, not giving him time for that, put him to death.  Immediately Messa went up the stairs, and safely reached a large room where two candles were burning on a buffet.  If these had been extinguished, he might have escaped.  He drew his sword and defended himself for some time.  As the governor perceived that he was clad in armor, he aimed at Messa’s face and pierced him through the neck, so that he fell down stairs, where he who guarded the door tried to finish him; but as Messa was well-armed he could not do so readily until he wounded him in the face.  During all this time Messa was not heard to ask confession or even say “Jesus,” or any other words, except:  “Whoever you are, do not kill me; consider the honor of your lady.”  While this was going on in the street, the governor found his wife in hiding.  After wounding her three times, she asked confession; and he, as a knight and a Christian, went out to look for a confessor, and brought one.  He resigned her to the priest, urging her to confess herself well and truly, which she did for some time, until the confessor absolved her.  With three or four more wounds, and the words with which he aided her to die, he finished with her.  The three dead bodies remained there until seven or eight o’clock in the morning before anyone dared to remove them.  The master-of-camp, Don Geronimo de Sylva, who had been governor of Maluco, and was a knight of St. John, had the body of the governor’s wife removed to her house, to wrap it in a shroud; and that night she received solemn burial by the Recollects of St. Augustine.  The two bodies of Joan de Messa and the pilot remained in the street all day, while a multitude of people, of the various nations who are in this city, collected to gaze at them, manifesting awe at seeing a spectacle so new to them, and one never seen before in these regions.  At night, some members of La Misericordia carried them away, without clergy, lights, or funeral ceremony.  They carried the two bodies together on some litters, and buried them both in the same grave.  This was the disastrous end of a poor young fellow, upon whom our Lord lavished many and most gracious gifts—­although he knew not how to profit by them, but offended Him who had granted them.  Those who will feel it most are the owners of the property [confided to him]; for God knows when they will collect it, because it is sequestrated.  Will your Reverence communicate this to Brother Juan de Alcazar.