Lady.—What does it possess? Vaya! Am I not the carcelera? Is not my husband the alcayde? Is not that son of mine a child of the prison?
Myself.—I beg your pardon, I was not aware of that circumstance; it of course makes much difference.
Lady.—I believe you. I am a daughter of that prison, my father was alcayde, and my son might hope to be so, were he not a fool.
Myself.—His countenance then belies him strangely: I should be loth to purchase that youngster for a fool.
Gaoleress.—You would have a fine bargain if you did; he has more picardias than any Calabozero in Toro. What I mean is, that he does not take to the prison as he ought to do, considering what his fathers were before him. He has too much pride—too many fancies; and he has at length persuaded me to bring him to Valladolid, where I have arranged with a merchant who lives in the Plaza to take him on trial. I wish he may not find his way to the prison: if he do, he will find that being a prisoner is a very different thing from being a son of the prison.
Myself.—As there is so much merriment at Toro, you of course attend to the comfort of your prisoners.
Gaoleress.—Yes, we are very kind to them; I mean to those who are caballeros; but as for those with vermin and miseria, what can we do? It is a merry prison that of Toro; we allow as much wine to enter as the prisoners can purchase and pay duty for. This of Valladolid is not half so gay: there is no prison like Toro. I learned there to play on the guitar. An Andalusian cavalier taught me to touch the guitar and to sing à la Gitana. Poor fellow, he was my first novio. Juanito, bring me the guitar, that I may play this gentleman a tune of Andalusia.
The carcelera had a fine voice, and touched the favourite instrument of the Spaniards in a truly masterly manner. I remained listening to her performance for nearly an hour, when I retired to my apartment and my repose. I believe that she continued playing and singing during the greater part of the night, for as I occasionally awoke I could still hear her; and, even in my slumbers, the strings were ringing in my ears.
CHAPTER XXII
Dueñas—Children of Egypt—Jockeyism—The Baggage Pony—The Fall—Palencia—Carlist Priests—The Lookout—Priestly Sincerity—Leon—Antonio alarmed—Heat and Dust.