"'Senorita,' said I, 'I think I have to thank you for a present I
had while I was in prison. I've eaten the bread; the file will do for
sharpening my lance, and I keep it in remembrance of you. But as for the
money, here it is.'

"'Why, he's kept the money!' she exclaimed, bursting out laughing.
'But, after all, that's all the better--for I'm decidedly hard up! What
matter! The dog that runs never starves!* Come, let's spend it all! You
shall treat.'

* _Chuquel sos pirela, cocal terela_. "The dog that runs
finds a bone."--Gipsy proverb.

"We had turned back toward Seville. At the entrance of the _Calle de
la Serpiente_ she bought a dozen oranges, which she made me put into my
handkerchief. A little farther on she bought a roll, a sausage, and
a bottle of manzanilla. Then, last of all, she turned into a
confectioner's shop. There she threw the gold coin I had returned to
her on the counter, with another she had in her pocket, and some small
silver, and then she asked me for all the money I had. All I possessed
was one peseta and a few cuartos, which I handed over to her, very much
ashamed of not having more. I thought she would have carried away the
whole shop. She took everything that was best and dearest, _yemas_,*
_turon_,** preserved fruits--as long as the money lasted. And all these,
too, I had to carry in paper bags. Perhaps you know the _Calle del
Candilejo_, where there is a head of Don Pedro the Avenger.*** That head
ought to have given me pause. We stopped at an old house in that street.
She passed into the entry, and knocked at a door on the ground floor.
It was opened by a gipsy, a thorough-paced servant of the devil. Carmen