“ ‘High-and-Mighty Father-in-Law,’ replied Don Juan, ‘give yourself no concern. Her Highness, the Princess, my honorable Lady, though very beautiful, has only a woman’s wit. She was confused with sleep, too, and misunderstood what I said. I was again in my dream taunting the wild boar, as I taunted him when I was dragging him by his ears up the palace steps, telling him that his face was flat as a last, his teeth dull as pincers, and his bite no more to be dreaded than a cobbler’s awl. You see, sire, how a woman, unused to deeds of valor, would fail to understand.’
“ ‘They are such impulsive creatures,’ sighed the king. ‘It is very troublesome. Do you not see, my daughter, how rashly you jumped to a conclusion? Now go in peace, both of you, and don’t come bothering me again with your domestic quarrels.’
“And so,” concluded Pedrillo, “my story ends with bread and pepper and a grain of salt, and I’ve no more to say.”
“I do not care for that story,” said Rafael, who had grown very red in the face.
“But the Princess was right,” protested Pilarica, with a puzzled little pucker of her forehead.
“If the Devil had not invented lying, that shoemaker would,” observed Tia Marta. “But your tiresome tale has not been quite useless, Don Pedrillo. It has put Juanito fast to sleep.”
“And Grandfather, too,” added Pilarica.
“The better for them,” remarked Uncle Manuel, patting the glossy neck of his offended mule, for Capitana had just been so rude as to frisk past Coronela and take the lead.
Pedrillo was quite disconcerted by these frank criticisms and croaked dolefully, pushing Peregrina on beside the impudent, triumphant Capitana:
“Unhappy is the tree
That grows in the field alone;
Every wind is its enemy
Till it be overthrown.”