Myself.—­You have twenty alguazils at your beck and call, and have of course the power, and so had your predecessor, who nearly lost his situation by imprisoning me; but you know full well that you have not the right, as I am not under your jurisdiction, but that of the captain-general.  If I have obeyed your summons, it was simply because I had a curiosity to know what you wanted with me, and from no other motive whatever.  As for imprisoning me, I beg leave to assure you, that you have my full consent to do so; the most polite society in Madrid is to be found in the prison, and as I am at present compiling a vocabulary of the language of the Madrilenian thieves, I should have, in being imprisoned, an excellent opportunity of completing it.  There is much to be learnt even in the prison, for, as the Gypsies say, “The dog that trots about finds a bone.”

Corregidor.—­Your words are not those of a Caballero.  Do you forget where you are, and in whose presence?  Is this a fitting place to talk of thieves and Gypsies in?

Myself.—­Really I know of no place more fitting, unless it be the prison.  But we are wasting time, and I am anxious to know for what I have been summoned; whether for crimes trivial or enormous, as the messenger said.

It was a long time before I could obtain the required information from the incensed corregidor; at last, however, it came.  It appeared that a box of Testaments, which I had despatched to Naval Carnero, had been seized by the local authorities, and having been detained there for some time, was at last sent back to Madrid, intended as it now appeared, for the hands of the corregidor.  One day as it was lying at the waggon-office, Antonio chanced to enter on some business of his own and recognised the box, which he instantly claimed as my property, and having paid the carriage, removed it to my warehouse.  He had considered the matter as of so little importance, that he had not as yet mentioned it to me.  The poor corregidor, however, had no doubt that it was a deep-laid scheme to plunder and insult him.  And now, working himself up into almost a frenzy of excitement, he stamped on the ground, exclaiming, “Que picardia!  Que infamia!”

The old system, thought I, of prejudging people and imputing to them motives and actions of which they never dreamed.  I then told him frankly that I was entirely ignorant of the circumstance by which he had felt himself aggrieved; but that if upon inquiry I found that the chest had actually been removed by my servant from the office to which it had been forwarded, I would cause it forthwith to be restored, although it was my own property.  “I have plenty more Testaments,” said I, “and can afford to lose fifty or a hundred.  I am a man of peace, and wish not to have any dispute with the authorities for the sake of an old chest and a cargo of books, whose united value would scarcely amount to forty dollars.”

He looked at me for a moment, as if in doubt of my sincerity, then, again plucking his whiskers, he forthwith proceeded to attack me in another quarter:  “Pero que infamia, que picardia! to come into Spain for the purpose of overturning the religion of the country.  What would you say if the Spaniards were to go to England and attempt to overturn the Lutheranism established there?”