"Come forward, calumnious and insolent count, and abductor of women!"
"Sir knight," called out a woman from an upper window of an adjacent house, "according to the description you give, it must be the Count of Carrion you are seeking."
"The very same, honoured dueña," replied Rodrigo.
"Ah, sir knight, would to God I had never set foot in Burgos, and my eyes would not be now two rivers of tears! Hi, hi, hi!"
"Can you not tell me, woman, if"—
"Pardon me, sir knight, I am just going to do so; but you must know that I had a daughter, more beautiful than a May morning—Hi, hi, hi!—Daughter of my heart!"
"Anger of God, stop your weeping!" exclaimed Rodrigo, impatient to procure information regarding the count.
"Why should I not weep, sir?" continued the old woman, with a calmness sufficient to deprive Job himself of patience. "Why should I not weep, when that accursed count has stolen my daughter! Hi, hi, hi! Woe is me, I must now die of hunger, when I have no one to earn anything to keep me alive."
Rodrigo had let his impatience and annoyance give way to compassion, and was about to alleviate the affliction of the old woman. Fernan, however, whose heart was not so susceptible to the misfortunes of others, now interfered, exclaiming angrily—
"By Judas Iscariot! if I were up there, I'd soon make that old chatterbox hold her tongue."