Antonio--Good evening, brother; they tell me that on the callicaste you intend to set out for Madrilati.
Myself--Such is my intention; I can stay here no longer.
Antonio--The way is far to Madrilati; there are, moreover, wars in the land, and many chories walk about; are you not afraid to journey?
Myself--I have no fears; every man must accomplish his destiny: what befalls my body or soul was written in a gabicote a thousand years before the foundation of the world.
Antonio--I have no fears myself, brother: the dark night is the same to me as the fair day, and the wild carrascal as the market-place or the chardi; I have got the bar lachí in my bosom, the precious stone to which sticks the needle.
Myself--You mean the loadstone, I suppose. Do you believe that a lifeless stone can preserve you from the dangers which occasionally threaten your life?
Antonio--Brother, I am fifty years old, and you see me standing before you in life and strength; how could that be unless the bar lachí had power? I have been soldier and contrabandista, and I have likewise slain and robbed the Busné. The bullets of the Gabiné and of the jara canallis have hissed about my ears without injuring me, for I carried the bar lachí. I have twenty times done that which by Busné law should have brought me to the filimicha, yet my neck has never yet been squeezed by the cold garrote. Brother, I trust in the bar lachí like the Caloré of old: were I in the midst of the gulf of Bombardó without a plank to float upon, I should feel no fear; for if I carried the precious stone, it would bring me safe to shore. The bar lachí has power, brother.
Myself--I shall not dispute the matter with you, more especially as I am about to depart from Badajoz: I must speedily bid you farewell, and we shall see each other no more.
Antonio--Brother, do you know what brings me hither?
Myself--I cannot tell, unless it be to wish me a happy journey: I am not gipsy enough to interpret the thoughts of other people.