The Portable Cervantes

“I, noble sir,” he went on, “am a native of Fuenfrida, a village well known and even famous on account of the distinguished travelers who are constantly passing through it. My name is Pedro del Rincón,¹ and my father is a person of quality, being an agent of the Holy Crusade, that is to say, one who sells papal bulls or indulgences, a bulero, or, as people usually say, a buldero. I used to accompany him at times, and I learned the trade so well that when it comes to dispensing bulls, I would not take second place to any man no matter how good at it he might be. But one day I came to love the money from the bulls more than the bulls themselves, and having embraced a bag of it, I made off for Madrid, where, with the facilities which that city commonly affords, I gutted the bag in a very short while and left it with more creases than a bridegroom’s handkerchief.

“The one who was in charge of the money then came after me, I was arrested, and they showed me little mercy; although, when those gentlemen saw how young I was, they were satisfied with sending me to the whipping post and swatting the flies off my back for a spell, after which I was forbidden to set foot in the capital for a period of four years. But I was patient; I merely shrugged my shoulders and put up with the flogging and the swatting, and was in such a hurry to begin serving my sentence of exile that I did not even have time to get me any sumpter mules. I took what I could of my valuables, those that I thought I was most likely to need, including these cards.” (With this, he displayed the deck we have mentioned, which he carried in his Walloon ruff.) “With them I have earned my living by playing twenty-one in all the inns and taverns between here and Madrid. They are, as you can see, worn and filthy, but there is one marvelous thing about them for him who knows how to handle them, and that is the fact that no matter how you cut them, you are bound to turn up an ace.

“If your Grace is at all acquainted with this game, you can see what an advantage a player has who is certain of an ace the first card he cuts, for it will count either one point or eleven, and with the stakes set at twenty-one, his money will stay at home. In addition, I learned from a cook in the household of a certain ambassador a number of tricks at lansquenet and the game known as andaboba; so that, if your Grace is able to pass his examination as a cutter of leggings, I could be a master of the science that Vilhan invented.² That way, I am sure not to die of hunger; for in any farm-house to which I come there is someone who is willing to pass the time with a little game, as we are going to find very shortly. Let us spread the net and see if any bird falls into it from among the mule drivers in this inn; by which I mean that the two of us will start playing twenty-one as if we were in earnest, and if anyone wants to make a third, he will be the first to leave his money behind him.”

“That suits me,” said the other lad. “I thank your Grace very much for giving me an account of your life, and I feel that I must now tell you my own life story, which very briefly is as follows. I was born in the pious village that lies between Salamanca and Medina del Campo. My father is a tailor and taught me his trade; and with my ability, from cutting with shears I went on to cutting purses. I became tired of the cramped life in a small town and the lack of affection my stepmother showed me, and so I left and went to Toledo to practice my calling there. In that city I did wonders; for there was not a reliquary dangling from a hood or a pocket so well hidden that my fingers did not find it out or my scissors clip it, even though it might have been guarded by the eyes of Argus.

“During the four months I spent in Toledo I never once was trapped between doors or caught in the act or chased by constables or turned up by any informer. True enough, there was one week when a spy who worked both with the officers of the law and with us reported my cleverness to the magistrate, who became so enamored of my good qualities that he insisted on seeing me. However, being very humble, I do not like to deal with important personages, and I avoided him by leaving the city in such haste that I too did not have time to provide myself with sumpter mules or small change or a post-chaise or even so much as a cart.”

“Never mind about that,” said Rincón. “Since we know one another now, there is no need for all these grand airs. Let us make a clean breast of it and admit that we haven’t a penny between us or even a pair of shoes.”

“So be it,” replied Diego Cortado (for that was the younger one’s name),³ “and since our friendship, as you have said, Señor Rincón, is to be lifelong, let us begin with the time-honored ceremonies.”

Saying this, Cortado arose, and he and Rincón clasped each other in a warm embrace, then started playing twenty-one with the aforementioned cards, which may have been clean of dust and straw (that is to say, of the king’s dues), but not of grease and trickery. After a few hands Diego was able to cut an ace quite as well as his teacher, and when a mule driver came cut to the portico for an airing and asked if he could make a third, they agreed readily enough and in less than half an hour had won twelve reales and twenty-two maravedis, which for the muleteer was equivalent to a dozen stabs in the back and twenty-two thousand sorrows. Thinking that, being mere lads, they would not be able to prevent him from doing so, he tried to take the money away from them; but one of the boys drew his short sword and the other his yellow-handled knife and gave him so much trouble that, if his companions had not run out, things undoubtedly would have gone hard with him.

At this point, a group of travelers on horseback happened to come along the road. They were on the way to take their siesta at the Alcalde inn half a league beyond; but seeing the fight between the mule driver and the lads, they hastened to separate them, telling the latter that in case they were bound for Seville, they might join the party.

“That is where we are going,” said Rinc6n, “and we will serve your Lordships and obey your every command.”

Without any further hesitation the pair leaped out into the road in front of the mules and took their departure, leaving their victim despoiled of his cash and very angry, while the innkeeper’s wife marveled at the good training the rogues had had, for she had been eavesdropping on their conversation. When she told the muleteer that she had heard them say the cards were false ones, he began tearing at his beard and wanted to follow them to the other hostelry in order to get his money back; for, as he said, it was a very great insult, touching upon a point of honor, that two boys should have been able to trick a grown man like him. His companions, however, restrained him, advising him that he should not advertise his lack of cleverness and his gullibility. The short of it is that, while they did not succeed in consoling him, by dint of much talking they prevailed upon him to stay where he was.

In the meantime Cortado and Rincón proved to be such zealous servants that the travelers gave them a lift most of the way, and although they had a number of opportunities to rifle the luggage of their temporary masters they did not do so, since they did not wish to lose so good a chance for making the journey to Seville, a town they very much wished to see. Nevertheless, as they entered the city—which they did at the vesper hour and by the Customhouse Gate in order that the baggage might be inspected and the duty paid—Cortado could not refrain from ripping open the valise or satchel that one of the company, a Frenchman, carried up behind him on the crupper of his mount. With his knife he inflicted so wide and deep a gash that the insides were plainly visible, and he then slyly took out a couple of good shirts, a sun dial, and a small memorandum book.

The lads were none too well pleased at seeing these objects, and assuming that inasmuch as the Frenchman kept the satchel with him it must contain something of greater worth than what they had found in it, they were tempted to make another search but did not do so, thinking that by this time the owner would have removed and put away for safekeeping whatever was left. And so, before the theft had been discovered, they took their leave of those who had been their providers up to now, and the next day they sold the shirts at the old clothes market outside the Arenal Gate, receiving for them the sum of twenty reales.

Having done this, they set out to see the town. They marveled at the size and magnificence of the cathedral and the great throng of people on the river bank; for this was the season for provisioning the fleet, and there were six galleys drawn up along the wharf, the sight of which caused the youths to heave a sigh and fear the day when their misdeeds would take them to the rowing benches for the rest of their lives. They also gazed at the many porters with baskets who were going up and down, and they asked one of them how he liked his job, if there was much work to it, and how much he made. It was a young Asturian whom they questioned, and he replied that it was a very good job on the whole, with no tax to pay, adding that some days he made as much as five or six reales, with which he could eat and drink and have a royal good time, being free to seek whatever employer he liked without having to put up any security, and he was sure, also, of having his dinner whenever he wished, as meals were served at all hours even in the meanest chophouse.

The two friends thought that this did not sound at all bad, and the work was not displeasing to them. Indeed, it seemed to them admirably suited to the practice of their own trade under cover and in safety, for as porters they would find it easy to enter private houses everywhere. They accordingly decided to buy the necessary equipment, seeing there was no examination to be passed, and they asked the Asturian what they should purchase. He told them they needed a couple of small bags, new or at any rate clean, and that each of them should have three palm-fiber baskets, two large ones and a small one, to carry the meat, fish, and fruit—the bags were for the bread.

He then took them where these articles were for sale, and they, with the money they had got for the Frenchman’s shirts, bought all the articles in question. Within a couple of hours they had become quite expert at their new trade, as could be seen from the manner in which they handled their baskets and carried their bags; and their mentor thereupon proceeded to inform them where it was they should put in an appearance: mornings at the Meat Market and in San Salvador Square; on fish days at the Fish Market and the Slope; every afternoon at the river; and on Thursdays at the Fair.

This lesson they memorized thoroughly, and early the next morning they took up their stand in the Square. No sooner had they arrived than they were surrounded by other youths engaged in the same occupation, who, seeing the spick-and-span condition of their bags and baskets, judged them to be newcomers. They had to answer innumerable questions and did so very cautiously. Meanwhile, a young student and a soldier had come up, and, observing what clean baskets the novices had, the former summoned Cortado while the latter took Rincón.

“In the name of God, so be it!” both lads cried.⁴

“Sir,” said Rincón, “this is a good way to begin, with my first tip coming from your Grace.”

“The tip,” said the soldier, “will not be a bad one; for I have won a little money and I am in love, and I am giving a banquet today for some of my lady’s women friends.”

“Very well then, your Grace, go ahead and load me down as much as you like, for I have the will and the strength to carry away this entire market place, and if necessary I’ll be glad to help you cook the food as well.”

The soldier was pleased with the boy’s good manners and told him that if he wished to become a servant he would take him out of such degrading employment; to which Rincón replied that, since this was his first day, he would like to see how good or bad a calling it was, but in case he was not satisfied with it, he promised on his word that he would enter the soldier’s service before he would that of a canon. The soldier gave a laugh and loaded the boy well, then pointed out the house where his lady dwelt so that Rinc6n would know it from then on and he would not have to accompany him when he sent him on an errand. The lad promised to be loyal and well behaved, and the man then gave him three cuartos, and in no time at all Rincón was back at the Square so that he might not miss any chance that offered; for the Asturian had warned him that he must keep a sharp eye out, and had further advised him that, when he was carrying small fish such as dace, sardines, or flounders, he might very well take a few and eat them himself, if only to help defray the expenses of the day; but he reminded him that it should be done with a great deal of caution so that he would not lose his good reputation, which was the most important thing in this business.

Although Rincón had returned as quickly as he could, he found Cortado already back at his post, and his companion now came up and asked how things had gone with him. Rincón opened his hand and displayed the three cuartos, whereupon Cortado brought out from his bosom a purse that once upon a time had been of amber-scented leather and appeared to be rather well filled.

“It was with this,” he said, “and a couple of cuartos that his reverence the student paid me off; but take it, Rincón, for fear of what may happen.”

He had barely slipped the purse to him when the student came running up in a sweat and frightened to death. Seeing Cortado, he asked if by any chance the boy had seen a purse answering such and such a description and containing fifteen gold crowns, three pieces of two reales each, and a number of cuartos and ochavos, amounting to a certain sum in maravedis. He demanded to know if the porter had taken his money while he, the student, was making his purchases.

Cortado answered with great craftiness and without the slightest sign of agitation. “All that I can tell you about that purse,” he said, “is that it surely could not have been lost unless you were careless about where you put it.”

“Sinner that I am!” exclaimed the student “I must have been careless, seeing that they stole it from me.”

“That is what I say,” Cortado agreed; “but there is a remedy for everything in this world except death, and the first and chief remedy that your Grace should try is patience, remembering that God made us all, and one day follows another, and things come and go. It may be that, in the course of time, the one who took the purse will repent and return it to your Grace nicely perfumed.”

“We’ll forget about the perfume,” said the student.

“And then,” Cortado went on, “there are letters of excommunication and interdicts, and there is also such a thing as diligence, which is the mother of good fortune. But to tell you the truth, I shouldn’t like to have that purse on me, for if your Grace has any holy orders, I would feel as if I had committed some great incest or sacrilege.”

“Sacrilege indeed!” cried the grief-stricken student. “Although I am not a priest but merely a sacristan to a few nuns, the money in that purse was the third part of the revenue from a chaplaincy which a priest who is a friend of mine sent me to collect, and so it is money that is holy and sacred.”

“Let him eat it with his bread,” said Rincón at this point. “I wouldn’t go his security for all he will get from it. There is a day of judgment when everything will come out in the wash, and then we shall see who the scoundrel was who dared to take, steal, and make away with a third of the income from a chapel.”

“Tell me, Sir Sacristan, upon your life, how much does the income amount to each year?”

“Incomel I’m a son of a whore!” The sacristan was beside himself with anger. “Am I to stand here and discuss the income with you? If you know anything, brothers, tell me; if not, be on your way and Godspeed, for I must go and have the crier announce it.”

“That is not a bad idea,” said Cortado. “But your Grace must be sure not to forget the description of the purse or the exact amount of money that was in it, for if you are off as much as a penny you will never see it again as long as you live, and that is a prophecy.” ⁵

“There is nothing to fear on that score,” replied the sacristan, “for I remember it all better than I do the sound of the bells I ring. I shall not err by the fraction of a point.”

With this, he took from his pocket a lace-bordered handkerchief to wipe the sweat that was dripping from his face as from a still, and no sooner did Cortado lay eyes upon it than he marked it for his own. As the sacristan went away Cortado followed and overtook him on the cathedral stairs, where he called him to one side and began spouting such an interminable rigmarole of nonsense having to do with the theft of the purse and the hope of its recovery that the poor student was quite bewildered as he listened. Unable to understand what the youth was saying, the sacristan had him repeat it two or three times; and thus they stood there, staring each other straight in the eye, with the sacristan hanging on every word and so bewildered that Cortado found the opportunity for which he was waiting and slyly took the handkerchief from its owner’s pocket. Then he said good-by, promising to see him again that afternoon. He had his eyes, he said, on another porter, a lad of about the same build, who was something of a thief and whom he suspected of having stolen the purse; he would make it his business to find out within a day or two.

Somewhat consoled by this, the sacristan took his leave, and the boy then joined Rincón, who had been looking on from a distance. Not far away there was another lad with a basket who had witnessed everything that had taken place and who had seen Cortado give the handkerchief to Rinc6n. He now approached them.

“Tell me, gallant sirs,” he said, “are you in the bad books or not?”

“Gallant sir,” Rincón answered him, “we do not understand that kind of talk.”

“What! You mean to say you are not, gentle Murcians?” ⁶

“We are neither from Thebes⁷ nor from Murcia,” said Cortado. “If there is anything else that you want to know, speak out. If not, go your way, and may God go with you.”

“So you do not understand?” said the young man. “Very well then, I will feed it to you with a silver spoon. What I meant to inquire, gentlemen, was whether or not you are thieves, though I do not know why I should ask, since I can see that you are. But tell me, how does it come that you have not yet gone to Señor Monipodio’s customhouse?” ⁸

“Why, Sir Gallant,” said Rinc6n, “can it be that thieves in this country have to pay a duty?”

“If they do not pay,” the other lad replied, “they at least have to register with Senor Monipodio, who is their father, their teacher, and their protector; and I accordingly advise you to come with me and render him obedience, for if you do not do so and dare to commit a theft without his approval, it will cost you dearly.”

“I thought,” remarked Cortado, “that thieving was a trade that was free of tax or duty, and that if you paid, it was in a lump sum with your neck or your shoulders as security. But since that is the way it is and each land has its own customs, let us observe those of this country, which, being the leading one in all the world, must have the best usages. Accordingly, your Grace may show us where this gentleman you speak of is to be found, for I suspect from what I have heard of him that he is a very influential personage, big-hearted, and a very clever hand at the business.”

“Indeed he is influential, clever, and competent!” was the youth’s rejoinder; “so much so that during the four years that he has been our leader and our father, not more than four of us have ended up on the finibusterrae, only some thirty have tasted leather, and a mere sixty-two have gone over the road.” ⁹

“Sir,” said Rincón, “the truth is, we come as near to understanding you as we do to flying.”

“Let us start walking, and I will explain these terms on the way, together with others that ought to be as familiar to you as the bread in your mouth.” He then went on to give them the meaning of various expressions drawn from that form of speech that is known as germanía, or thieves’ slang. His discourse was not a short one, for they had a long way to go.

“Is your Grace by any chance a thief?” Rinc6n inquired of their guide.

“Yes,” he answered, “that I am, and at the service of God and all good people; although I am not one of the best, seeing that I am still in the first year of my apprenticeship.”

“That is something new to me,” said Cortado, “to hear that thieves are in this world to serve God and good people.”

“Sir,” replied the youth, “I do not meddle with tologies; ¹⁰ all I know is that everyone in this business may praise God, especially in view of the order that Monipodio keeps among his adopted sons.”

“Undoubtedly,” observed Rinc6n, “his rule must be a good and holy one if he is able to make thieves serve God.”

“It is so good and holy that I do not know if it could be improved in any way, so far as our trade is concerned. He has commanded that out of what we steal we must give something in the way of alms to buy oil for the lamp that stands before a highly venerated image here in this city; and I must say that this act of piety has had great results, for only recently they gave the ansia three times to a cuatrero who had done a Murcian on a couple of roznos, and though he was weak from quartan fever, he endured it all without singing, as if it were nothing at all, and we who are in the business attributed this to his devoutness, for such strength as he had was not of itself sufficient to enable him to stand the executioner’s first desconcierto.

“And since I know that you are going to ask me what some of these words mean, I shall cure myself while I am healthy and tell you before you put the question. You may know, then, that a cuatrero is a cattle thief; ansia is the torture; roznos are asses, begging your pardon; and the first desconcierto is the turn of the screw that the executioner gives at the start. We do more than that, however: we say our rosary, which is divided according to days of the week, and many of us do not steal on Friday or speak to any woman called Mary on a Saturday.”

“All of that sounds marvelous to me,” said Cortado; “but tell me, your Grace, do you make any other form of restitution or do any other kind of penance?”

“As for restitution,” the youth explained, “there is no use talking about that since it is out of the question on account of the many portions into which the loot is divided, with each of the agents and contracting parties¹¹ getting his share. For that reason, the one who commits the theft cannot restore anything, and so far as that is concerned, there is no one to urge us to do so. We never go to confession, and if letters of excommunication are issued against us, we never hear of them as we are not in church when they are read, unless it happens to be a feast day and we are attracted there by what is to be had from the great crowd of people.”

“And by doing merely this,” said Cortado, “you gentlemen think that your life is good and holy, do you?”

“Why, what is there bad about it?” the young man asked. “Isn’t it worse to be a heretic or a renegade, to kill your father and mother, or to be a solomite?”

“Your Grace means a sodomite,” said Rinc6n.

“That is what I said.”

“It is all bad,” said Cortado, “but seeing that our fate would have us enter this brotherhood, let your Grace lead on. I am dying to see this Señor Monipodio, having heard so many fine things about him.”

“You will soon have your wish,” said the youth, “for there is his house. You gentlemen may wait at the door while I go in to find out if he is free, this being the hour at which he commonly grants an audience.”

“Very well,” said Rincón.

When they had gone on a little farther the young fellow entered a house that was not very good, indeed it was quite unprepossessing, and the other two waited for him at the door. Soon afterward he came out and called to them, and they entered, their guide telling them to wait a while longer in a small brick-paved courtyard so clean and well scrubbed that it appeared to be covered with the finest carmine. On one side was a three-legged stool and on the other a pitcher with a broken spout on top of which stood a small jug that was in equally bad shape. On the third side was a reed mat and in the middle of it a flower pot, or, as they are called in Seville, a sweet basil jar.

As they waited for Señor Monipodio to come down, the two lads attentively eyed the furnishings of the house, and as he delayed putting in an appearance, Rinc6n ventured into one of two low rooms that opened upon the patio. In it he saw two fencing foils and a couple of cork shields suspended from the wall by four nails, a large chest without a lid or covering of any sort, and three other reed mats spread out on the ground. On the wall opposite him was one of those cheap prints of Our Lady, and beneath it was suspended a palm-fiber basket with a white vessel nearby set into the wall, from which Rinc6n gathered that the basket served as a poor box while the vessel was for holy water, and this turned out to be the truth.

At that moment two youths, each about twenty years old, came in. They were dressed like students and were followed shortly afterward by two porters and a blind man; without saying a word, they all began strolling up and down the courtyard. It was not long before two old men entered, baize-clad and wearing spectacles, which gave them a grave and dignified appearance, as did the rosaries with tinkling beads that they carried in their hands. Behind them came an old woman in a full skirt. She was as silent as the others; she went into the room off the side, took some holy water, and very devoutly knelt before the image. She remained there for some little while; then, having first kissed the ground and lifted her arms and eyes heavenward three times in succession, she arose, tossed some coins into the basket, and came out to join the others in the patio.

In short, before many minutes had elapsed, there were upwards of fourteen persons assembled there, variously clad and from different walks in life. Among the latest arrivals were a couple of swaggering young ruffians with large mustaches, broad-brimmed hats, Walloon ruffs, colored stockings, and large showy garters. Their swords exceeded the length allowed by law, each carried a brace of pistols in place of daggers, and their bucklers were suspended from their girdles. Upon entering, they glanced at Rinc6n and Cortado out of the corner of their eyes, as if surprised at seeing strangers there, and, going up to them, inquired if they were members of the brotherhood. Rinc6n replied that they were, and were at the service of their Graces.

Then it was that Señor Monipodio came down, and all of that respectable company were very glad to see him. He appeared to be around forty-five or forty-six years of age, and was a tall man with a dark complexion, close-set brows, and a heavy black beard; his eyes were deep in his head. He had on a shirt without a doublet, and through the opening at his throat could be seen what looked like a forest, so hairy-chested was he. He wore a cloak of baize that fell almost to his feet, which were shod in a pair of old shoes made into slippers. His legs were covered down to the ankles with wide linen breeches, and his hat, with bell-shaped crown and a broad brim, was the kind worn by wandering rogues. From a shoulder belt strapped across his bosom there hung a broadsword resembling those of the “Little Dog” brand.¹² He had short hairy hands and fat fingers with blunted nails. Nothing could be seen of his legs, but his feet were monstrosities, for they were sprawling and covered with bunions. The short of it is, he was the coarsest and most hideous barbarian in all the world. He was accompanied by the one who had brought the two boys there. Their guide, taking them by the hand, now presented them.

“These, Senor Monipodio,” he said, “are the good lads I was telling you about. Let your Grace examine them and see whether or not they are worthy of entering our fraternity.”

“That I will very gladly do,” replied Monipodio.

I have neglected to state that as Monipodio came in all those who were waiting for him immediately dropped him a profound and sweeping curtsy, with the exception of the two ruffians, who merely lifted their hats in a don’t-give-a-damn manner (as their kind are in the habit of saying) and then resumed their stroll along one side of the courtyard as he walked up and down the other side. Turning to the newcomers, Monipodio inquired concerning their profession, the country from which they came, and their parentage. It was Rinc6n who answered him.

“Our profession speaks for itself, seeing that we are here in your Grace’s presence. Our country does not seem to me to be of any great importance, nor our parents either, since it is not a question of giving information prior to being received into some respectable order.”

“You are quite right about that, my son,” said Monipodio. “It is a good idea to conceal the things you speak of; for if luck does not turn out as it should, it is not desirable to have some such entry as this in the books of justice beneath the court clerk’s seal: ‘So-and-So, son of So-and-So, native of such and such a place, on such and such a day, was hanged or flogged,’ or something of that sort, which to say the least does not sound well in the ears of God-fearing folk. And so, I repeat, there is an advantage in concealing your place of origin and your parentage, and even in changing your names, although among ourselves nothing is to be kept secret. For the present, your own names will be enough.”

Rincón and Cortado then gave him the information he desired.

“From now on,” continued Monipodio, “it is my will that you, Rincón, should be known as Rinconete, and you, Cortado, as Cortadillo, these being names that are very well suited to your age and the rules of our order. In accordance with those rules, however, it is also necessary for us to know the parents’ names, for it is our custom every year to have certain masses said for the souls of deceased relatives and for our benefactors. We set apart a certain portion of the swag to pay the fee of the officiating priest; and it is said that these masses, thus duly sung and paid for, are of great benefit to such poor souls, by way of shipwreck.¹³

“Under the heading of our benefactors we include the one who defends us in court; the constable who tips us off; the executioner who shows us mercy; and the person who, when one of our number is fleeing through the street and the crowd in full cry behind him is crying ‘Stop thief! Stop thief!’ intervenes to stem the torrent of pursuers by saying, ‘Let the poor fellow go, he’s had enough bad luck, let him go, and let his sin be his punishment!’ Then there are those feminine benefactors who with their sweat aid us in prison and in the galleys alike. There are the fathers and mothers who brought us into the world; and there is the court clerk who, if things go as they should, sees to it that there is no crime that is not a misdemeanor and no misdemeanor that gets much punishment. Our brotherhood observes the adversery of each one of these every year with all the pomposity and solemnitude in our power.”

“Surely,” said Rinconete (who had now been confirmed with this name), “all that is worthy of the most lofty and profound genius which we have heard that you, Señor Monipodio, possess. Our parents are still living, but if they should pass away, we will at once notify this most blessed and well-protected confraternity in order that their shipwreck or storm,¹⁴ the adversery that your Grace speaks of, may be celebrated with the usual solemnity and pomp, unless you think it could be done better with pomposity and solemnitude as your Grace has just remarked.”

“That is the way it shall be done,” declared Monipodio, “or there will not be so much as a piece left of me.” And, calling to the guide, he said, “Come here, Canchuelo. ¹⁵ Have the sentries been posted?”

“Yes,” replied the guide (whose name was Ganchuelo), “there are three of them on watch, and there is no reason for us to fear being taken by surprise.”

“Coming back, then, to what we were talking about,” Monipodio went on, “I would like to know, my sons, what it is you can do, so that I can give you work of the kind you like and suited to your abilities.”

“I,” answered Rinconete, “know a little trick or two with the pasteboards; I can play them from up my sleeve or under the table; I’ve a sharp eye for a smudged card or one that’s been scraped; I’m a good hand at ombre, four-spot, and eight-spot; I don’t take second place to anyone when it comes to shuffling or dealing from the bottom of the deck. As for light-fingered work, I’m right at home there, there’s no one to equal me as third man in a confidence game, and I can stack ’em against the best there are.” ¹⁶

“That’s all right for a start,” said Monipodio, “but it’s all old stuff that any beginner knows, and is only good when you get a sucker in the small hours of the morning. But time will tell and we shall see. With this foundation and half a dozen lessons, I trust to God that I shall be able to make you a famous workman and possibly even a master craftsman.”

“We will do anything we can to serve your Grace and the other gentlemen of the confraternity,” said Rinconete.

“And you, Cortadillo, what are your accomplishments?” Monipodio asked.

“I,” replied Cortadillo, “know the trick that is called ‘put in two and take out five.’ ¹⁷ I can pick a pocket with neatness and dispatch.”

“Anything else?” Monipodio wanted to know.

“No,” said Cortadillo, “I’m very sorry, but there isn’t.”

“Don’t let it worry you, my son,” said Monipodio, “for you’ve reached a safe harbor where you will not drown, and a school where you will learn, before you leave, all that you most need to know. But what about the matter of nerve, my lads, how goes it on that score?”

“How should it go with us,” said Rinconete, “except very well? We have nerve enough for any undertaking that our profession calls for.”

“That is good,” said Monipodio, “but what I want to know is, do you have enough to stand it if they give you the ansia half a dozen times and not open your lips or call your mouth your own?”

“We already know what ansia means, Senor Monipodio,” Cortadillo told him, “and we are ready for anything; for we are not so ignorant as to fail to realize that what the tongue says the throat must pay for. We know that Heaven shows plenty of mercy to the bold man (to give him no other name) who, with life and death depending on what he says, acts as if there were more letters in a no than in a si.”

“That will do,” said Monipodio at this point. “There is no need of your saying anything more. I may tell you that this one conversation that I have had with you has convinced, obliged, persuaded, and compelled me to give you from now on the rank of senior members, and dispense with the customary one year’s apprenticeship.”

“I am of the same opinion,” declared one of the ruffians. And all those present approved the decision, for they had been listening to everything that was said, and they now asked Monipodio to grant the two lads permission to enjoy all the immunities of the brotherhood, by reason of the good impression the pair had made and their way of talking, which showed that they fully deserved the favor. He replied that he would grant the request by bestowing upon the youths, from now on, the prerogatives mentioned, and at the same time he reminded Rinconete and Cortadillo that they should value all this very highly since it meant they would not have to pay the usual tax of one-half of the first theft they committed or perform any menial functions throughout the whole of the first year; they would not have to carry messages from his agents to any senior brother whether in jail or at the house;¹⁸ they might take their wine straight and eat when and where they liked without asking permission of their leader, and henceforth they would share as fully fledged members in whatever the older ones brought in.

These and other advantages that were offered them the two lads looked upon as a most exceptional favor and they were very polite in expressing their thanks to Señor Monipodio.

At that moment a lad came running up all out of breath. “The constable in charge of vagabonds,” he announced, “is coming to this house, but he does not have his men with him.”

“Let no one get excited,” Monipodio directed. “He is a friend and never comes to do us harm; so calm yourselves, and I will go out and have a word with him.”

With this, they all quieted down, for they had been somewhat alarmed. Monipodio, meanwhile, went out the door and stood for some time talking to the constable, then returned and asked, “Who was stationed in San Salvador Square today?”

“I was,” said the one who acted as guide.

“Well then,” Monipodio demanded, “how does it come that you did not report an amber purse which someone made away with in that neighborhood, containing fifteen gold crowns, two double reales, and I can’t tell you how many cuartos?”

“It is true,” admitted the guide, “that such a purse was missing today, but I did not take it, nor do I have any idea who did.”

“Don’t be playing any tricks with me,” Monipodio warned. “That purse must be produced, for the constable who is asking about it is a friend and does us countless good turns every year.”

The youth again swore that he knew nothing about it, whereupon Monipodio became so angry that his eyes darted sparks.

“Let no one,” he said, “think to jest by breaking the slightest rule of our order, for if he does it will cost him his life. That purse has to be produced. If it is being concealed to avoid payment of the tax, I myself will put up whatever is necessary out of my own pocket, for the constable must by all means be satisfied.”

Ganchuelo once more began swearing, with many oaths and curses, that he had not taken the purse nor so much as laid eyes on it; all of which merely added fuel to Monipodio’s wrath and caused a stir of excitement among all the others present at seeing their statutes and worthy ordinances thus broken. In view of all this dissension and agitation, Rinconete thought it would be a good thing to calm them down and at the same time please his superior, who was bursting with indignation; and so, having consulted with his friend Cortadillo, and with the latter’s consent, he brought out the sacristan’s purse.

“Let there be no further question about this matter, gentlemen,” he said. “Here is the purse, and in it you will find all that the constable said it contained. My comrade Cortadillo lifted it today, along with a handkerchief which he took from the same person.”

Cortadillo then brought out the handkerchief and displayed it. Upon sight of it, Monipodio said, “Cortadillo the Good, for such is the name and title by which he is to be known from now on, may keep this kerchief, which may be charged to my account. But as for the purse, it must go back to the constable, who is a relative of the sacristan’s. We must comply with the old proverb which says: ‘To one who has given you a whole chicken, you can spare a drumstick.’ This worthy officer does more for us in a day than we could do for him in a hundred days.”

By common consent, those present approved the gentlemanlike conduct of the newcomers and the decision of their superior, who now went out to return the purse to the constable, while Cortadillo was left with a new name, that of the Good, just as if he had been Don Alonso Pérez de Guzmán the Good, the one who from the walls of Tarifa threw down the knife with which his only child was beheaded.¹⁹

When Monipodio returned he was accompanied by two girls with painted faces, rouged lips, and bosoms whitened with ceruse. They wore serge half-mantles²⁰ and were so carefree and shameless in their demeanor that Rinconete and Cortadillo at once recognized them as coming from the brothel, an assumption that was perfectly correct. As soon as they entered they threw open their arms, and one ran up to Chiquiznaque, the other to Maniferro, for these were the names of the two ruffians, Maniferro’s being due to the fact that he had an iron hand in place of the one that had been cut off as a punishment for his crimes. The pair embraced the newcomers joyfully and asked if they had brought anything to wet the gullet.²¹

“How could we fail you, my swordsman?” replied the one who was called Gananciosa.²² “Your runner Silbatillo will be here shortly with a clothesbasket filled with what God has been pleased to give us.”

This proved to be the truth, for at that very instant a lad came in bearing a hamper covered with a sheet. They were all very glad to see Silbato, and Monipodio at once ordered them to bring one of the reed mats from the little room off the side and spread it out in the middle of the patio. He then commanded them all to sit down around it in order that they might have a little snack and talk business at the same time. At this point, the old woman who had been praying in front of the image spoke up.

“Monipodio, my son,” she said, “I am in no mood for feasting today. For a couple of days now I have had a dizziness in the head that drives me mad, and what’s more, I must go finish my devotions before noon and place my candles in front of Our Lady of the Waters and the Holy Crucifix of Saint Augustine, something that I would not fail to do come snow or blizzard. What happened was this. Last night the Renegade and the Centipede brought to my house a washbasket somewhat larger than this one and filled with white linen. I swear to God and upon my soul, the clothes were still wet and covered with suds, which the poor fellows had not had time to remove; and they were sweating so much beneath the weight of the hamper that it was a pity to see the water dripping and pouring from their faces—they were so red that it gave them the appearance of a couple of cherubs.

“They told me that they were on the trail of a cattle dealer who had just weighed in a flock of lambs at the slaughterhouse, as they wished to get their fingers into a big catskin bag filled with reales that he carried on his person. They did not take the linen out to count it but trusted entirely to my conscience; and may God fulfill my worthy desires and free us all from the clutches of the law, I did not touch the basket, and you will find everything just as it was.”

“I believe everything you say, mother,” said Monipodio. “Let it stay where it is, and at nightfall I will come and make an inventory of what it contains and will give each one exactly what is coming to him, as I always do. ”

“Let it be as you have commanded, my son,” said the old woman, “and since it is getting late, give me a little swig, if you have one, to comfort this stomach of mine which is feeling very faint.”

“Indeed you shall have a drink, mother!” said Escalanta, ²³ for that was the name of Gananciosa’s companion. She uncovered the basket and brought out a leather flask with nearly two arrobas of wine and a cork vessel that with no trouble at all would hold an azumbre.²⁴ After filling the vessel, Escalanta gave it to the devout old woman, who took it in both her hands.

“You have poured me a lot, daughter Escalanta,” she said, blowing off a little of the foam, “but God will give me strength for everything.” And putting her lips to the brim, she drank it all down at a single gulp without pausing for breath. “That’s from Guadalcanal,” she remarked, “and it has a wee taste of gypsum.²⁵ May God comfort you, my daughter, who have thus comforted me. The only thing I am afraid of is that it may do me harm, for I have had nothing to eat.”

“It won’t hurt you, mother,” said Monipodio, “for it’s over three years old.”

“In the Virgin’s name, I hope you’re right,” the old woman answered, and she went on, “Look, my daughters, and see if by any chance you have a spare cuarto to pay for my candles. Being anxious to bring you news of the basket, I came away in such a hurry that I left my purse at home.”

“Yes, I have something for you, Señora Pipota,” replied Gananciosa (Pipota was the old woman’s name).²⁶ “Here are two cuartos for you, and with one of them I wish you would buy a candle for me and place it in front of Señor Saint Michael; and if you have enough for two, offer the other to Señor Saint Blas, for they are my patron saints. I’d like to have you place one before the image of Senora Saint Lucy also, as I am devoted to her for the sake of the eyes;²⁷ but I have no more small change, so that will have to wait for another day when I can pay my respects to all of them.”

“You will be very wise in doing so, daughter. See to it that you are not miserly; for it is very important to carry your own candles before you die and not wait for your heirs or executors to do it for you.”

“Mother Pipota is quite right about that,” said Escalanta, putting her hand into her purse. She gave the old woman another cuarto, directing her to place two more candles before whatever saints she thought would be most appreciative and helpful.

“Enjoy yourselves, children,” said Pipota as she prepared to leave. “Enjoy yourselves now while there is time, for when old age comes you will weep as I do for all the moments you lost in youth. Remember me to God in your prayers. I go to pray for myself and you, that He may free and preserve us in this dangerous trade of ours, and keep us out of the hands of the law.”

With this she went away. When she had left they all sat down around the mat and Gananciosa spread the sheet for a tablecloth. The first thing she brought out of the hamper was a large bunch of radishes and some two dozen oranges and lemons, followed by a large earthenware pot filled with slices of fried codfish. There was also half a Dutch cheese, a jug of fine olives, a platter of shrimp, and a great quantity of crabs, with a thirst-inspirer in the form of capers drowned in peppers, together with three very white loaves of Gandul bread.²⁸

There were around fourteen at the meal, and none of them failed to bring out his yellow-handled knife, with the exception of Rinconete, who made use of his short sword. The two baize-clad old men and the one who had served as guide to the boys then began pouring the wine from the cork vessel; but no sooner had they fallen to on the oranges than they were all startled by a loud knocking at the door. Ordering them to be calm, Monipodio went into the low room at the side and took down a shield, then drew his sword, came back to the door, and in a frightful hollow-sounding voice called out, “Who is there?”

“It is I,” was the answer from without. “And I, Senor Monipodio, am nobody other than Tagarete.²⁹ I am on watch this morning, and I have come to tell you that Juliana with the chubby face is headed this way. Her hair is all down and she is crying as if something terrible had happened to her.”

At that moment the woman came up, sobbing loudly, and when Monipodio heard her he opened the door and ordered Tagarete to go back to his post and not to make such an uproar the next time he came to report. The man promised to observe this admonition, and Chubby Face then came in. She was a girl of the same kind and profession as the other two. Her hair was streaming, her face was covered with bruises, and upon entering the patio she fell to the ground in a faint. Gananciosa and Escalanta ran to assist her, and upon undoing her bosom they found that it was all black and blue as if it had been mangled. They then threw water on her and revived her.

“God’s justice and the King’s,” she cried, “be upon that shameless thief, that cowardly sneak thief, that dirty scoundrel! I’ve saved him from the gallows more times than he has hairs in his beard. Poor me! Just see for what it is I have squandered the flower of my youth —for a wicked deceiver, an incorrigible villain like him!”

“Take it easy, Chubby Face,” said Monipodio. “I am here, and I will see that justice is done you. Tell us how you have been wronged, and before you have finished I will avenge you. Have you had a falling out with your protector? ³⁰ If that is the case, and it is revenge you want, you don’t have to open your mouth.”

“What a protector!” replied Juliana. “I’d rather be protected in hell than by that lion among lambs and lamb among men. Do you think I’m ever going to eat at the same table or sleep in the same bed with him again? Before I’d do that, I’d see this flesh devoured by jackals. Just look what he’s done to me!” And, raising her skirts up to her knees or a little higher, she exhibited her legs, which were all covered with welts. “This is the kind of treatment I get from that ingrate of a Repolido,³¹ who owes more to me than he does to the mother that bore him.

“And why do you think he did it? Was it on account of anything I had done? Certainly not. He was gambling and losing, and he sent Cabrillas, his runner, to ask me for thirty reales, and I only sent him twenty-four—may all the hard work and trouble I had in earning them be counted by Heaven against my sins! In repayment for this kindness on my part, thinking that I had more than I did and was holding out on him, he took me this morning and dragged me out into the fields behind the King’s Garden, and there, among the olive trees, without even removing the iron buckles, he gave me such a flogging with his belt that he left me for dead. These welts that you see will bear witness to the truth of my story.”

She now began screaming again, demanding justice, and again Monipodio and all the young bucks who were present promised that she should have it. Gananciosa took her hand to console her, saying that she herself would gladly give one of her most prized possessions if her own man had treated her the same way.

“For I must tell you, sister Chubby Face,” she said, “if you do not know it already, punishment of that sort is a sign of love. When these ruffians beat and kick us, it is then that they most adore us. Come now, own up: after your Repolido had abused you like that, didn’t he give you a caress?”

“Did he give me a caress?” said the weeping girl. “He gave me a hundred thousand, and he would have given a finger of his hand as well if I’d have gone with him to his lodgings. I even thought I could see the tears starting from his eyes after he had thrashed me like that.”

“There is no doubt of it,” said Gananciosa; “and he would weep with pain at seeing what he has done to you; for men like that, in such cases, have no sooner committed a fault than they are sorry for it. You will see, sister: he will come looking for you before we leave here and will ask your forgiveness for everything that has happened. He will be meek as a lamb.”

“The truth is,” said Monipodio, “that cowardly jailbird had better not set foot inside this door until he has done full penance for his crime. The nerve of him, laying his hands upon this girl’s face or body! Why, when it comes to neatness and earnings, she can compete with Gananciosa here, and I can pay her no higher compliment than that!”

“Ay,” exclaimed Juliana at this point, “don’t be speaking ill of the poor fellow, Señor Monipodio, for however bad he may be, I love him with all my heart. The words that my friend Gananciosa just spoke in his behalf are the breath of life to me. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll go look for him right now,”

“Not if you take my advice,” said Gananciosa, “for it will only make him feel puffed up and more important than ever, and he will treat you as he would a fencer’s dummy. Calm yourself, sister, and before long, as I have said, you will see him coming in here full of repentance. If he does not come, we will make up some verses about him that will infuriate him.”

“That we will,” said Chubby Face, “for I have a thousand and one things to say to him.”

“I will be the scribe, if necessary,” said Monipodio; “for although I am not a poet by any means, if a man but roll up his sleeves to it he can turn out a couple of thousand couplets in no time at all; and if they are not all they ought to be, I have a barber friend, a great poet, who trims verses at all hours. But let us finish what we have begun by putting away this food, and afterward everything will be all right.”

Juliana was content to obey her superior, and they all returned to their gaudeamus and within a short while had reached the bottom of the basket and the dregs of the flasks. The old men drank sine fine,the young men right heartily, and the ladies said their Kyrie eleisons.³² The two elders then asked permission to leave, and Monipodio granted it, charging them to be sure to keep him informed of anything that the community ought to know. They promised to do so and went their way.

Being somewhat curious, Rinconete, after first begging Monipodio’s pardon, asked him of what use two such old and dignified graybeards could be to the brotherhood. Monipodio replied that they were what were known in thieves’ slang as “hornets,” and that their business was to go through the city during the day and spy out houses that might be burglarized at night. They also followed those who drew money from the Bank of India or the Treasury, in order to see where it was taken and what was done with it. Having ascertained this, they tested the thickness of the walls of the house in question and marked the spot for the thieves to drill their guzpátaros, or holes, by means of which they effected an entrance. In short, he went on to say, they were quite as useful as any member of the brotherhood, if not more so, and received a fifth of whatever was stolen as a result of their efforts, just as His Majesty gets a fifth of any treasure that is found. They were, moreover, very truthful and upright individuals, God fearing and conscientious; they led model lives and enjoyed a good reputation.

“Some of them,” he further explained, “especially the two who were here just now, are so accommodating that they are satisfied with much less than our rules allow them. We have another pair, a couple of porters who serve as furniture movers at times; they know the entrances and exits to all the houses in the city and which dwellings are worth our while and which are not.”

“All that is wonderful, if you ask me,” said Rinconete, “and I only hope that I can be of some use to this excellent fraternity.”

“Heaven,” said Monipodio, “always grants worthy desires.” Just then there came another knock at the door, and he went over to see who was there.

“Open up, Señor Monipodio,” came a voice in answer to his question, “it is I, Repolido.”

“Don’t let him in, your Grace!” cried Chubby Face when she heard this. “Don’t open the door for that Tarpeian mariner, that tiger of Ocaña!” ³³

Monipodio paid no attention to her, however, and when she saw that Repolido was being admitted, she rose and ran into the room where the shields were, closing the door behind her.

“Get that ugly mug out of my sight!” she screamed from within. “I don’t want to see that torturer of innocents, that frightener of tame doves!” ³⁴

Maniferro and Chiquiznaque held Repolido back, for he was determined to enter the room where Chubby Face was. Seeing that they would not let him go, he called out to her, “Stop it, little spitfire! For Heaven’s sake, be quiet if you want to get married!”

“Get married, you rascal!” replied Chubby Face. “Just hear what he’s harping on now! You’d like it all right if I’d take you, but I’d sooner marry a skeleton.”

“That’s enough, you little fool,” said Repolido; “it’s getting late. And don’t let it turn your head to see me come to you so tame and meek, for, by the living God, if my anger mounts to the belfry, the relapse will be worse than the fall; so let’s all come down off our high horses and not be giving the devil his dinner.”

“I’d give him his supper too,” said Chubby Face, “if only I never had to see you again.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” asked Repolido. “By God, Madame Strumpet, I’m losing my temper. I’ll be putting them all out by the dozen, even though there’s no sale.” ³⁵

“Let there be no rows in my presence,” said Monipodio, “Chubby Face will come out not as a result of threats but because of her affection for me, and everything will be fine. When lovers quarrel, their pleasure is all the greater after they’ve made up. Come on out, Juliana my child, come out little Chubby Face, for my sake, and I will see to it that Repolido begs your forgiveness on his knees.”

“Let him do that,” said Escalanta, “and we will all be on his side and will insist on Juliana’s coming out.”

“If you expect me to humiliate myself,” said Repolido, “a whole Swiss army couldn’t force me to do that; but if it’s to please Chubby Face, I may say that I’d not only get down on my knees but would drive a nail straight through my forehead to be of service to her.”

Chiquiznaque and Maniferro laughed at this, at which Repolido, who thought they were making sport of him, became very angry. “If anyone,” he said, “so much as thinks of laughing at anything that Chubby Face may say against me or I may say against her, I can tell him that he’s a liar every time he does so.”³⁶

Upon hearing this, Chiquiznaque and Maniferro exchanged such a dark look that Monipodio saw there would be trouble unless he took a hand.

“Do not go any further, gentlemen,” he warned them. “Let us have no more of these insults; chew them up between your teeth, and so long as they do not reach the girdle,³⁷ no one will be the worse for it.”

“We are quite sure,” replied Chiquiznaque, “that such threats were not meant for us; for if we thought they were, the tambourine is in hands that know how to play it.”

“We also have a tambourine, Sir Chiquiznaque,” was Repolido’s retort, “and we too, if necessary, can make the bells ring. I have said that whoever tries to make a joke out of this is a liar, and if anyone thinks otherwise, let him follow me, and with a sword that’s shorter by a palm’s length I will show him that I mean what I say.”

With this, he started to go out the door. Chubby Face was listening, and when she heard how angry he was she came running out. “Stop him!” she cried. “Don’t let him go or he’ll be up to his old tricks! Can’t you see what a temper he’s in? Don’t you know he’s a Judas Macarelo³⁸ when he gets started? Come back here, you big bully! Come back, light of my eyes!” And laying hold of his cape, she tugged on it. Monipodio came to her assistance and between them they held him back. Chiquiznaque and Maniferro did not know whether to be offended or not and so remained quiet, waiting to see what he would do. Yielding to Chubby Face and Monipodio’s entreaties, Repolido now turned. “Friends,” he said, “ought not to provoke or make sport of each other, especially when they see that it is not being taken in good part.”

“There is no one here,” replied Maniferro, “who would want to provoke or make sport of a friend, and seeing that we are all friends, let’s shake hands on it.”

“Spoken like true friends,” declared Monipodio, “and so, shake hands and let that be the end of it.”

They did so at once. Escalanta took off one of her clogs and began drumming on it as if it had been a tambourine. Gananciosa snatched up a new palm-leaf broom that happened to be there and by scraping it produced a sound that, while harsh and unpleasing, went well enough with the one that came from the clog.³⁹ Monipodio broke a plate in two and, taking the pieces between his fingers, began rattling them with great dexterity, thereby providing a counterpoint. Rinconete and Cortadillo were quite astonished by this use to which the broom was put, for it was something they had never seen before.

“So that surprises you, does it?” said Maniferro. “Well it may, for there has never been an instrument invented that is so convenient and ready at hand or so cheap. In fact, I heard a student remark only the other day that neither Negrofeo, who brought Arauz up from hell, nor Marión, who mounted a dolphin and rose from the sea as if he were riding a hired mule, nor that other great musician who built a city that had a hundred gates and an equal number of posterns,⁴⁰ ever invented a better one, or one that you can pick up any time and is so easy to learn, since it has no frets, keys, or strings, and you don’t have to bother about tuning it. They say it was the idea of a certain gallant of this city who prides himself on being a very Hector where music is concerned.”

“That I can well believe,” replied Rinconete; “but let’s listen to our own musicians, for Gananciosa has just spit on the ground, and that’s a sign she’s getting ready to sing.”

This proved to be the truth, for Monipodio had asked her to render a few popular seguidillas.⁴¹ The first to begin, however, was Escalanta, in a small, quavering voice:

“For a red-headed lad of old Seville, My heart is all aflame.”

She was followed by Gananciosa:

“For a little brown lad I know, any girl Would part with her good name.”

Monipodio then began rattling his fragments of broken plate in an energetic manner, and he too sang:

“Lovers may quarrel, but when peace is made, Their loving pleasure grows.”

Chubby Face also could not refrain from expressing her joy, and she took off one of her own clogs and began a dance as an accompaniment to the others:

“Then stop, for it is to your own flesh You give these angry blows.”

“Enough of that!” cried Repolido. “There’s no sense in harping on what’s past and done, so take another theme and let bygones be bygones.”

The song they had begun might have lasted for some time if it had not been for an urgent knock at the door. When Monipodio went out to see who was there, the sentinel informed him that he had caught sight of the magistrate down at the end of the street and added that the officer was coming that way, preceded by Grizzly and the Hawk, a couple of neutral constables.⁴² Upon hearing this, those inside were all greatly alarmed. Chubby Face and Escalanta were so excited that they put on each other’s clogs and Gananciosa dropped her broom and Monipodio his improvised clappers. The music ceased, and silence fell on the frightened assemblage. Chiquiznaque was dumb, Repolido was scared, and Maniferro worried. Then everyone quickly disappeared from sight, some in one direction and some in another, and ran up to the roofs and terraces in order to make their escape by way of the other street.

Neither the sudden firing of a harquebus nor a clap of thunder out of a clear sky ever inspired such terror in a flock of careless pigeons as the unexpected arrival of the officer of the law did in all those good people gathered there. Rinconete and Cortadillo did not know what to do and accordingly remained where they were, waiting to see what the outcome of the squall would be. But the sentinel soon came back to say that the magistrate had gone on past without any sign of suspicion directed at their house.

As this report was being made to Monipodio, a young gentleman came up to the gate, dressed, as the saying goes, like a man about town.⁴³ Bringing the newcomer into the courtyard, Monipodio ordered Chiquiznaque, Maniferro, Repolido, and all the others to descend. Inasmuch as they had remained in the patio, Rinconete and Cortadillo were able to overhear the conversation that took place between the new arrival and his host. The young gentleman was asking Monipodio why they had made such a botch of the job he had ordered done. Monipodio replied that he did not know what the circumstances were but that the member charged with executing the job was present and would give a good account of himself. At that point Chiquiznaque came down, and his superior thereupon asked him if he had carried out the commission in question, a matter of a knife wound of fourteen stitches.

“Which one was that?” asked Chiquiznaque, “the merchant at the crossroads?”

“That’s the one,” said the gentleman.

“Well,” said Chiquiznaque, “I will tell you what happened. I was waiting at night at the door of his house, and he came home shortly before time for prayers. I went up to him, took one look at his face, and saw that it was so small that a wound of fourteen stitches was out of the question; and not being able to keep my promise and follow destructions—”

“Instructions, your Grace means to say, not destructions,” the gentleman corrected him.

“That was what I meant,” said Chiquiznaque. “Well then, seeing that his face was too small and narrow for the required number of stitches, and not wishing to have my trip for nothing, I gave the cut to a lackey of his, and you can be sure that it was a first-rate one.”

“I would rather,” said the gentleman, “that you had given the master one of seven stitches than the servant one of fourteen. The short of it is, you have not complied with our agreement; but no matter, the thirty ducats that I left as down payment will be no great loss to me, and so I kiss your Grace’s hands.” Saying this, he took off his hat and turned to go, but Monipodio seized him by the cloak of varicolored cloth that he wore and drew him back.

“Just a moment,” he said. “We have kept our word honorably and well, and you are going to have to do the same. You owe twenty ducats, and you’re not leaving here until you pay or give us the equivalent in security.”

“Is that what your Grace calls keeping your word,” the gentleman demanded, “giving the cut to the servant instead of the master?”

“How well you get it!” exclaimed Chiquiznaque. “You don’t seem to remember the proverb that says: ‘He who loves Beltrán loves his dog.’ ” ⁴⁴

“But how does that proverb fit here?” said the gentleman.

“Why,” Chiquiznaque went on, “isn’t it the same thing as saying: ‘He who hates Beltrán hates his dog’? Beltrán is the merchant and you hate him; his lackey is his dog; by giving it to the dog you give it to Beltran, the debt is wiped out, and we’ve accomplished our part. So there’s nothing to do but settle the account.”

“I will back him up in that,” added Monipodio. “You took the words right out of my mouth, friend Chiquiznaque. As for you, Sir Gallant, don’t be quibbling with your friends and servants but take my advice and pay for the work that’s been done. If you would like for us to give the master another one of whatever size his face will hold, you may consider that they are already taking the stitches.”

“In that case,” replied the gallant, “I will gladly pay the entire cost for both of them.”

“Have no doubt about it,” Monipodio assured him, “but as you are a good Christian, believe me when I tell you that Chiquiznaque will leave so perfect a scar that people will think the fellow was born with it.”

“In view of that assurance and your promise,” said the gentleman, “take this chain as security for the twenty ducats I owe and the forty that I will pay you for the cut that is to come. By its weight it is worth a thousand reales, and it may be that it will remain in your hands, for I have an idea I am going to need another job of fourteen stitches before very long.”

As he said this he removed from about his neck a chain made up of small links and gave it to Monipodio, who, upon running it through his fingers and weighing it in his hand, saw that it was no product of the alchemist. The leader of the gang was glad to have it and accepted it very politely, for he was extremely well bred. It was arranged that the job should be done that night by Chiquiznaque, and the gentleman then left well satisfied.

Calling all the absent ones down from the roof, Monipodio stood in the center of the group. He took out a memorandum book, which he carried in the hood of his cape, and gave it to Rinconete, as he himself did not know how to read. Upon opening it to the first page Rinconete found the following inscription:

MEMORANDUM OF SLASHES TO BE GIVEN THIS WEEK

“‘First, to the merchant of the crossroads; worth fifty crowns; thirty received on account. Secutor,⁴⁵ Chiquiznaque.’”

“That’s all, son, I think,” said Monipodio; “go on to where it says ‘Memorandum of Thrashings.’”

Rinconete turned the page and on the following one found the entry. Beneath it was written: “‘To the ale-house keeper of Alfalfa Square, one dozen heavy blows at a crown each; eight on account. Time limit, six days. Secutor, Maniferro.’”

“You may as well cross that out,” said Maniferro. “It will be taken care of tonight.”

“Are there any more, son?” asked Monipodio.

“Yes,” answered Rinconete, “there is one other that says: ‘To the hunchback tailor, known as the Finch, six heavy blows at the request of the lady who left her necklace with him. Secutor, Lop-Eared.’” ⁴⁶

“I wonder,” Monipodio mused, “why that hasn’t been attended to. Lop-Eared must undoubtedly be sick, for it’s two days beyond the time limit and it hasn’t been carried out yet.”

“I ran into him yesterday,” said Maniferro, “and he told me that it was the hunchback who was home sick, which is the reason why it wasn’t done.”

“That I can well believe,” said Monipodio, “for I know Lop-Eared to be so good a worker that if there had not been some such reason he would have finished it at once. Are there any more, my lad?”

“No, sir,” replied Rinconete.

“Then turn on,” Monipodio directed him, “to where it says ‘Memorandum of Common Outrages.”’

Rinconete turned the leaves until he came to this inscription:

MEMORANDUM OF COMMON OUTRAGES, NAMELY: THROWING OF VIALS; SMEARING WITH JUNIPER OIL; NAILING UP OF SAMBENITOS AND HORNS; PERSONS TO BE MOCKED IN PUBLIC; CREATING FALSE ALARMS AND DISTURBANCES; PRETENDED STAB-BINGS; CIRCULATION OF SLANDERS⁴⁷

“And what does it say below?” asked Monipodio.

“It says,” Rinconete continued, “‘Smearing with juniper oil at the house of—’”

“Don’t mention the house,” said Monipodio, “for I know where it is. I am the tu autem and the executor in this trifling matter. Four crowns have already been paid against the total of eight.”

“That’s right,” said Rinconete; “it’s all written down here, and below it is, ‘Nailing up of horns—’”

“Don’t read that either,” Monipodio again admonished him; “the house and the address do not matter. It is enough to commit the offense without speaking of it in public, for it is a great burden upon the conscience. I would rather nail up a hundred horns and as many sambenitos, providing I was paid for it, than mention the fact a single time even to the mother that bore me.”

“The executor in this case,” Rinconete informed him, “is Snub-nose.”

“That has already been done and paid for,” said Monipodio. “Look and see if there is anything else; for if I am not mistaken, there should be an alarm at twenty crowns, one-half down payment and our whole community as the executor; we have all this month in which to carry it out, and it shall be done without fail—it will be one of the biggest things that has happened in this town in a long while. Give me the book, lad. I know there’s nothing else. Business is a bit slack just now, but times will change, and it may be we shall have more to do than we can take care of. There is not a leaf stirs without God’s will, and we cannot force people to avenge themselves, especially seeing that everyone is now so brave in his own behalf that he doesn’t want to pay for having something done that he can just as well do with his own hands.”

“That is the way it is,” said Repolido. “But, look, Señor Monipodio, let us know what your orders are, for it is getting late and the heat of the day is coming on very fast.”

“What is to be done,” said Monipodio, “is this. You are all to go to your posts and stay there until Sunday, when we will meet in this same place and divide everything that has fallen into our hands, without cheating anyone. Rinconete the Good ⁴⁸and Cortadillo will have for their district until the end of the week that part of the suburbs that lies between the Golden Tower and the Castle Postern. There they will have no trouble in working their tricks, for I have seen others that were not nearly so clever come back every day with more than twenty reales in small change, not to speak of the silver, and all this with only one deck and with four cards missing. Ganchuelo,” he went on, addressing the youths, “will show you the lay of the land, and even though you go as far as San Sebastián and San ‘Telmo, it will not make much difference, although it is only right that no one should trespass on another’s territory.”

The pair kissed his hand in return for the favor he had done them and promised to fulfill their tasks faithfully and well, with all diligence and discretion. Monipodio then took out from the hood of his cloak a folded sheet of paper containing a list of members and directed Rinconete to put down his own name and that of Cortadillo; but since they had no ink there, he told them they might take the paper with them and attend to the matter in the first apothecary’s shop to which they came. The entry was to read: “Rinconete and Cortadillo, full members; apprenticeship, none; Rinconete, card-sharper; Cortadillo, sneak thief.” They also were to note the day, month, and year, but were to say nothing about their parents or place of origin.

At this point one of the old men known as “hornets” arrived on the scene. “I have come,” he said, “to inform your Graces that I just now met the young Wolf ⁴⁹ of Malaga on the cathedral steps and he asked me to tell you that he is getting better at the business every day and that, with a clean deck, he could take the money from Satan himself. If he hasn’t been around to report and render you obedience as usual, it is because he is so down and out, but he will be here Sunday without fail.”

“I always did believe,” said Monipodio, “that the Wolf would be outstanding in his line, for he has the best and cleverest pair of hands for it that anyone could wish. To be a good worker at a trade, you have to have good tools with which to practice it as well as the brains with which to learn it.”

“I also,” the old man continued, “ran into the Jew in a lodging house in the calle de Tintores. He was dressed like a priest and had gone there because he had heard that a couple of Peruvians were living in the house and he wished to see if he could get into a game with them, even though a small one at first, as it might amount to much more in the end. He also said that he would be sure to be at the meeting on Sunday and would give an account of himself.”

“That Jew,” said Monipodio, “is another good hawk and a very clever fellow; but I haven’t seen him for days now, and that is not so good. I swear, if he doesn’t watch his step, I’ll fix him. That thief has no more holy orders than a Turk, and he doesn’t know any more Latin than my mother. Anything else new?”

“No,” answered the old man, “at least not that I know of.”

“Very well then,” said Monipodio, “here is a little something for you all.” And with this he divided some forty reales among them. “Let no one fail to be here Sunday, and each one will get what’s coming to him.”

They all thanked him for his kindness, and the young couples embraced once more: Repolido and Chubby Face, Escalanta and Maniferro, and Gananciosa and Chiquiznaque. It was arranged that they should all meet that night at Pipota’s house after they had finished the work in hand, and Monipodio remarked that he would also be there to make an inventory of the clothesbasket but that now he had to go and attend to the job of smearing with juniper oil. He embraced Rinconete and Cortadillo and dismissed them with his blessing, charging them that they should never have any permanent lodging or stopping place, as that was best for all concerned. Ganchuelo went with them to show them their post, and took occasion to remind them once again that they should not fail to put in an appearance on Sunday, since he believed that Monipodio intended to give them a lecture on things that had to do with their trade. He then went away, leaving the two lads quite astonished at all they had seen.

Although a mere boy, Rinconete had a naturally keen mind, and having accompanied his father in selling papal bulls, he knew something about the proper use of language. He had to laugh loudly as he thought of some of the words that Monipodio and the rest of that foolish community had employed. In place of per modum suffragii Monipodio had said per modo de naufragio (“by way of shipwreck”) , and in speaking of the loot he had said estupendo in place of estipendio.⁵⁰ Then there was Chubby Face’s remark that Repolido was like a “Tarpeian mariner,” and a “tiger of Ocaña” (in place of Hyrcania), along with countless other silly things, of the same sort and even worse. (He was especially amused by her hope that the labor she had expended in earning the twenty-four reales would be counted by Heaven against her sins.)

Above all, he marveled at the absolute assurance they all felt of going to Heaven when they died so long as they did not fail in their devotions, and this in spite of all the thefts, murders, and other offenses of which they were guilty in the sight of God. He laughed also, as he thought of the old woman, Pipota, who, leaving the stolen hamper at home, went off to place her wax candles in front of the images; by doing so she doubtless was convinced that she would go to Heaven fully clothed and with her shoes on. He was no less astonished at the obedience and respect they all showed Monipodio, that coarse, unscrupulous barbarian. He recalled what he had read in the latter’s memorandum book of the practices in which they were all engaged. And, finally, he was astounded by the careless manner in which justice was administered in that famous city of Seville, with people so pernicious as these and possessed of such unnatural instincts carrying on their pursuits almost openly.

He made up his mind to persuade his companion that they should not continue long in this desperate and evil way of life, one so free and dissolute and marked by such uncertainty. But in spite of it all, being young and inexperienced, he did continue in it for a number of months, and in the course of that time had certain adventures which it would take too long to set down here. Accordingly, we must wait for another occasion to hear the story of his life and the strange things that happened to him, as well as to his teacher Monipodio, along with other events having to do with the members of that infamous academy, all of which should be very edifying and well might serve as an example and a warning to those who read.