“Worse than the he-wolf,” said the soldier, “is the female, for as the senor pastor has well observed, there is more malice in women than in males:  to see one of these she-demons with a troop of the males at her heels is truly surprising:  where she turns, they turn, and what she does that do they; for they appear bewitched, and have no power but to imitate her actions.  I was once travelling with a comrade over the hills of Galicia, when we heard a howl.  ‘Those are wolves,’ said my companion, ’let us get out of the way;’ so we stepped from the path and ascended the side of the hill a little way, to a terrace, where grew vines, after the manner of Galicia:  presently appeared a large grey she-wolf, deshonesta, snapping and growling at a troop of demons, who followed close behind, their tails uplifted, and their eyes like fire-brands.  What do you think the perverse brute did?  Instead of keeping to the path, she turned in the very direction in which we were; there was now no remedy, so we stood still.  I was the first upon the terrace, and by me she passed so close that I felt her hair brush against my legs; she, however, took no notice of me, but pushed on, neither looking to the right nor left, and all the other wolves trotted by me without offering the slightest injury or even so much as looking at me.  Would that I could say as much for my poor companion, who stood farther on, and was, I believe, less in the demon’s way than I was; she had nearly passed him, when suddenly she turned half round and snapped at him.  I shall never forget what followed:  in a moment a dozen wolves were upon him, tearing him limb from limb, with howlings like nothing in this world; in a few moments he was devoured; nothing remained but a skull and a few bones; and then they passed on in the same manner as they came.  Good reason had I to be grateful that my lady wolf took less notice of me than my poor comrade.”

Listening to this and similar conversation, I fell into a doze before the fire, in which I continued for a considerable time, but was at length aroused by a voice exclaiming in a loud tone, “All are captured!” These were the exact words which, when spoken by his daughter, confounded the Gypsy upon the moor.  I looked around me, the company consisted of the same individuals to whose conversation I had been listening before I sank into slumber; but the beggar was now the spokesman, and he was haranguing with considerable vehemence.

“I beg your pardon, Caballero,” said I, “but I did not hear the commencement of your discourse.  Who are those who have been captured?”

“A band of accursed Gitanos, Caballero,” replied the beggar, returning the title of courtesy, which I had bestowed upon him.  “During more than a fortnight they have infested the roads on the frontier of Castile, and many have been the gentleman travellers like yourself whom they have robbed and murdered.  It would seem that the Gypsy canaille must needs take advantage of these troublous times, and form themselves into a faction.  It is said that the fellows of whom I am speaking expected many more of their brethren to join them, which is likely enough, for all Gypsies are thieves:  but praised be God, they have been put down before they became too formidable.  I saw them myself conveyed to the prison at -.  Thanks be to God.  Todos estan presos.”