The Scorpion.—‘Ojalá, that I had been in that cortíjo, to see such sport!’
Myself.—‘Do you fear God, O Tuérta?’
The One-eyed.—‘Brother, I fear nothing.’
Myself.—‘Do you believe in God, O Tuérta?’
The One-eyed.—‘Brother, I do not; I hate all connected with that name; the whole is folly; me diñela cónche. If I go to church, it is but to spit at the images. I spat at the búlto of María this morning; and I love the Corojai, and the Londoné, [278a] because they are not baptized.’
Myself.—‘You, of course, never say a prayer.’
The One-eyed.—‘No, no; there are three or four old words, taught me by some old people, which I sometimes say to myself; I believe they have both force and virtue.’
Myself.—‘I would fain hear; pray tell me them.’
The One-eyed.—‘Brother, they are words not to be repeated.’
Myself.—‘Why not?’