“Yes, who else, brother Juan?” said I, solemnly removing my hat.
Divers of the King’s soldiers, witnessing our grave concern, appeared to come to the same mind. Several of them followed our example.
“Well, talking of the Devil,” said the captain uneasily, “he was certainly seen last night by many in this neighbourhood.”
“Good Virgin Mary!” exclaimed the Count of Nullepart, “how poor Juan would have screamed had he seen his horns!”
“Yes, brother Juan, and poor Pedro also,” said I; and in the depth of our feigning I felt myself to be turning pale.
“Some say he was without horns,” said the captain.
“Then it can’t have been the Devil, excellency,” said the Count of Nullepart. “All the world knows the Devil by his horns and his tail.”
“It is said he came into our camp in the guise of a water-seller,” said the captain. “And they say his voice was so dreadful that it could be heard at a distance of two leagues. In stature he was near to three yards; his face was so red that you could warm your hands at it, and he himself was seen to boil a kettle by holding it next to his nose.”
“O Jesu!” said the Count of Nullepart. “Had Juan met him he must have perished.”
“It is easy to understand the redness of the setting sun,” said I.