The Friar sat up in his bed and nodded familiarly to him. “If you had trusted to me you might have spent a pleasanter night, Senhor Pedro,” said he: “I hope, however, you enjoyed your vigils. Good morning, Don Luis: you remember your promise.”
“I do not intend to betray you,” answered Don Luis; “but you must do me another service. Some jewels were stolen from a young lady who travelled this way yesterday, and I must insist on their being given to me, that I may restore them to their owner; now, I doubt not that you are able to procure them for me. Will you undertake to do so?”
The Friar thought for a minute. “If I undertake to procure the jewels, what am I to expect in return?” he asked.
“You well know that you deserve nothing, and that I am too lenient in allowing you to escape unpunished,” answered Don Luis; “but I will give an hundred milreas to the person who brings them to my father’s house in the course of a week.”
“The bargain is struck,” answered the Friar. “And now, senhor, adeos: I shall always retain a high respect for you.”
“I cannot exactly return the compliment,” said Don Luis; “but I shall always remember you, as the most daring, impudent scoundrel I have ever met.”
“Va com Deos. Get along with you; you are joking, fidalgo,” returned the Friar, laughing. “I am but a poor mendicant servant of heaven, and be assured I shall not forget you in my prayers.”
Don Luis did not answer him; but, followed by Pedro and his other attendants, bearing the luggage, he repaired to the stable, where their beasts were saddled, and they were soon ready to depart.
The landlord made his appearance, followed by Rosa, with tears in her eyes: “You will not be cruel, senhor, and make a complaint about what happened last night,” she said; “for if you do, you will ruin us all, and we shall be sent to prison, or turned into the road to starve.”
“I have already said I would make no complaint,” answered Don Luis; “and, Senhor Estalajadeiro, I must discharge my bill to you.”