"'Hark ye, Joseito,' she said. 'Have I paid you? By our law, I owed you
nothing, because you're a _payllo_. But you're a good-looking fellow,
and I took a fancy to you. Now we're quits. Good-day!'

"I asked her when I should see her again.

"'When you're less of a simpleton,' she retorted, with a laugh. Then, in
a more serious tone, 'Do you know, my son, I really believe I love you a
little; but that can't last! The dog and the wolf can't agree for long.
Perhaps if you turned gipsy, I might care to be your _romi_. But that's
all nonsense, such things aren't possible. Pshaw! my boy. Believe me,
you're well out of it. You've come across the devil--he isn't always
black--and you've not had your neck wrung. I wear a woollen suit, but
I'm no sheep.* Go and burn a candle to your _majari_,** she deserves
it well. Come, good-by once more. Don't think any more about _La
Carmencita_, or she'll end by making you marry a widow with wooden
legs.'***

* _Me dicas vriarda de jorpoy, bus ne sino braco_.--A gipsy
proverb.

** The Saint, the Holy Virgin.

*** The gallows, which is the widow of the last man hanged
upon it.

"As she spoke, she drew back the bar that closed the door, and once we
were out in the street she wrapped her mantilla about her, and turned on
her heel.