I asked la Girona if she thought I ought to spend the two years in the vault where I presently was. She replied that that would be safest and that in any case precautions had to be taken for her own safety.

The next day it was the duchess who came. I was delighted because I liked her better than her haughty nurse. I also was keen to hear more of her story. I asked her to continue, which she did as follows:

Some time later I received the visit of a lady who was an officer’s widow. Her father had been born a vassal of the duke, and she was claiming a fief which was in the jurisdiction of the Duchy of Sidonia. Bestowing patronage had never happened to me before. I was flattered by this chance to do so. I wrote a memorandum in which I proved the widow’s rights clearly and precisely. I took it to my father, who was pleased with it and sent it to the duke, as I had foreseen. The duke recognized the widow’s claim and wrote me a letter full of compliments on my precocious intellectual powers.

Later I had another occasion to write to him and I received a second letter, in which he told me how charmed he was by my mind. And indeed I did all I could to cultivate my wit and intellect. I was helped in this by la Girona’s intelligence, which is very great. I had just completed my fifteenth year when I wrote this second letter.

I was sixteen when one day I heard from my father’s study a commotion in the street and what sounded like the cheers of an assembled crowd. I ran to the window. I saw many excited people triumphantly accompanying a gilded coach on which I recognized the arms of Sidonia. A crowd of hidalgos¹ and pages rushed to the coach doors and I saw a very handsome man step down. He was dressed in the Castilian fashion, which our court had just given up, that is to say, he wore a ruff, a short coat and a plume. What set off this beautiful costume was the diamond-studded fleece which he wore on his breast.

‘It’s him!’ cried my father. ‘I knew he would come!’

I withdrew to my apartment and did not see the duke until the following day. But thereafter I saw him every day, for he did not leave my father’s house.

The duke had been recalled on very important business. It was necessary to quell violent unrest, which had been caused by the imposition of new taxes in Aragon. This kingdom had its own constitutions, among which is that of the Ricos Hombres, who were once the equivalent of what Castile called grandees. The Dukes of Sidonia were the oldest of the Ricos Hombres, which alone would have earned the duke great respect, but he was also loved for his personal qualities. The duke went to Saragossa and was able to reconcile the interests of the court with the wishes of the Aragonese. He was allowed to choose a reward, and he asked for permission to breathe the air of his native land for a short while.

The duke, who was by nature very straightforward, did not hide the fact that he took pleasure in conversing with me. We were nearly always together while the other friends of my father resolved matters of state. Sidonia admitted to me that he was very jealous by nature and even sometimes violent. Usually he spoke to me about himself or about myself. When this sort of conversation becomes habitual between a man and a woman their relationship soon becomes intimate, so I was not surprised when my father called me into his study to tell me that the duke had asked for my hand in marriage.

I replied that I would not ask him for time for reflection, because I had foreseen that the duke might show a lively interest in the daughter of his friend, and I had thought in advance about his character and the difference in age between us. ‘But Spanish grandees intermarry,’ I added. ‘How will they look on our union? They might go so far as to refuse the familiar form of address to the duke, which is the first sign of their disapproval.’

‘That is an objection I myself made to the duke,’ said my father. ‘He replied that all he asked for was your consent. The rest was his affair.’

Sidonia was not far away. He put in a timid appearance, which contrasted with his natural pride. I was touched by this and I did not keep him waiting too long for my consent. I made two people happy thereby, for my father was more pleased than I can tell you. La Girona was wild with joy.

The next day the duke invited all the grandees then in Madrid to dinner. When they were all present he asked them to sit down and spoke to them as follows:

‘Alba, I shall address myself to you since I look upon you as the first among us, not because your house is more famous than mine but out of respect for the hero whose name you bear.²

‘A presumption among us which does us honour requires us to choose our wives from the daughters of grandees, and without doubt I would despise anyone among us who entered into a mésalliance out of motives of wealth or lust.

‘The case I wish to place before you is very different. You know that Asturians say that they are as noble as the king and even a bit more so. However exaggerated this expression may be, their titles mostly antedate the Moors and they have the right to look upon themselves as the highest noblemen in Europe.

‘Well, the purest blood of Asturias flows in the veins of Leonor de Val Florida. In her it is combined with the rarest virtues. I maintain that such an alliance cannot but bring honour to the house of a Spanish grandee. If anyone is of a different opinion let him pick up this glove, which I now throw down in the midst of this assembly.’

‘I shall pick it up,’ said the Duke of Alba, addressing Sidonia by the familiar form of address, ‘but it is only to give it back to you and to compliment you on so noble a union.’

He then kissed him, as did all the other grandees. When he told me of this scene my father said somewhat sadly to me:

‘That’s the Sidonia I knew of old, with his notions of chivalry. Be careful not to offend him, Leonor!’

I confess to you that I had in my character a tendency towards pride, but this haughty love of grandeur left me as soon as it was satisfied. I became the Duchess of Sidonia and my heart was full of the sweetest feelings. In private life the duke was the most amiable of men because he was the most affectionate. His kindness was unfailing, his benevolence steadfast, his love constant. His angelic soul was reflected in his features. Only on occasions when some severe emotion changed them did they take on a terrifying aspect which made me tremble. Then, without wishing to, I saw in him the murderer of van Berg. But few things were able to upset Sidonia, and everything about me was able to make him happy. He loved to see me talking and doing things. He guessed the least of my thoughts. I did not think that his love for me could possibly be greater, but the birth of a daughter increased his affection and crowned our happiness.

The day I rose from my confinement, la Girona said to me, ‘My dear Leonor, you are a married woman and a happy mother. You have no further need for me. Duty calls me to America.’

I wanted her to stay.

‘No,’ she said. ‘My presence there is necessary.’

La Girona went away and took with her all the happiness I had till then enjoyed. I have described to you this short period of heavenly felicity, which could not last, because apparently so much good fortune is not meant for this world. I haven’t the strength today to tell you about my misfortunes. Farewell, young friend. Tomorrow you will see me again.

The duchess brought me my provisions. Her eyes were red, and she looked as though she had wept a great deal. She told me, however, that she felt strong enough to tell me the story of her misfortunes. This is how she carried on:

I had breast-fed my daughter and was fortunate enough to wean her before the events which I still have to relate to you. My first misfortune was the death of my father. He suffered an attack of an acute and violent illness and died in my arms, giving me his blessing and little foreseeing any of what was going to happen to us.

There were uprisings in Biscay. The duke was dispatched there. I accompanied him as far as Burgos. We had estates in all the Spanish provinces, and houses in nearly all Spanish cities. But in Burgos the Dukes of Sidonia had only a country house about a league outside the city, the very house where you now are. The duke left me there with all his retinue and went away to his destination. One day, on returning home, I heard a commotion in the courtyard. I was told that a thief had been discovered; he had been knocked out by being hit on the head with a stone, but he was a young man more handsome than had ever been seen before.

Some valets carried him to where I was standing. I recognized Hermosito.

‘Heavens!’ I cried. ‘This is no thief, but a young man from Asturias who was brought up in my grandfather’s house.’

I then turned to the major-domo and told him to take him in and look after him carefully. I even think I said that he was la Girona’s son, but I don’t have a clear memory of having said so.

The next day Doña Menzia told me that the young man was feverish and that in his delirium he spoke a great deal about me in very passionate terms.

I replied to Doña Menzia that if she continued to speak to me in such a way I would have her dismissed.

‘We’ll see about that!’ she replied. I ordered her then not to appear again in my presence.

The next day she sent word to me asking to be forgiven. She came and threw herself at my feet. I forgave her.

A week later, as I was alone, I saw la Menzia come in supporting Hermosito, who seemed extremely weak.

‘You commanded me to come,’ he said in a faint voice.

I gave la Menzia a surprised glance, but I did not want to upset la Girona’s son, so I had a chair set down for him a few paces from me.

‘My dear Hermosito,’ I said. ‘Your mother has never mentioned your name to me. I would like to know what has happened to you since we were separated.’

Hermosito found difficulty in speaking but he made a great effort and spoke as follows:

On the fifth day of our voyage we found ourselves in the middle of Don Fernando Arudez’s squadron. We were told to steer to the stern of the admiral’s vessel, where there was a gilded balcony decked out with flags of many colours. There I saw Don Fernando with the resplendent chains of several orders around his neck. Officers stood around him respectfully. He had a loudhailer in his hand, and asked us several questions about our encounters at sea before ordering us on our way. Once we had passed, the captain said to me, ‘There’s a marqués. But he began life like that ship’s boy over there who is sweeping the cabin.’

My father’s house was by the sea. We reached it by longboat. My father received me surrounded by a group of young mulatto girls, whom he made me embrace one after the other. They danced for me and acted provocatively in many other ways. The evening was spent in great frivolity.

The next day the corregidor of Vera Cruz had my father told that if one lived in the style he did, one did not keep one’s son at home, and that he had to send me to the Theatine college. My father obeyed, albeit reluctantly.

I found a teacher at the college who, in order to encourage us to study, told us often that the Marqués de Campo Salez, then second secretary of state, had like us begun life as a poor student, and that he owed his good fortune to his hard work. On learning that one could become a marqués by this means, I studied with great fervour for two years.

The corregidor of Vera Cruz was replaced. His successor had less rigid principles. My father thought that he could risk taking me back again.

Once again I found myself prey to the exuberance of the young mulatto girls, which my father encouraged in every conceivable way. I was far from pleased at this frivolity, but they instructed me in many things of which I had been ignorant up to then, and I realized at last why I had been banished from Asturias.

At the same time a most ominous change occurred in me. New emotions grew in my heart and revived in me the memory of the games I played when little. The thought of the happiness I had lost at the gardens of Astorgas in which I had run about with you, the hazy recollection of a thousand proofs of your kindness: too many enemies assaulted my frail sanity all at once and neither it nor my health were able to resist them. The doctors said that I had a wasting fever. As for me, I did not believe myself to be ill but the turmoil of my senses was such that I often believed that I could see things that were not in front of my eyes and that had no reality. It was you, Señora, who appeared most often to my deluded imagination; not as you are today but more or less as you were when I left you. At night I would wake up with a start and you would seem to pierce the darkness, and appear shining and radiant before me. If I went out the sounds of the countryside seemed to repeat your name again and again.

Sometimes you seemed to cross the plain before my eyes. If I looked at the heavens to beg that my torment cease, I saw there your image imprinted on the sky.

I discovered that I suffered less in churches and that prayer brought me relief above all else. I ended by spending whole days in these devout refuges. A monk whose hair had turned white in the practice of penance accosted me one day and said, ‘Oh my son, your heart is full of an immense love which is not meant for this world. Come to my cell. I will show you the way to paradise.’

I followed him to his cell and saw hair shirts and other instruments of martyrdom, which did not frighten me much. I was suffering from a quite different pain. The monk read to me several passages from the lives of the saints. I asked him to let me take the book away and I read it all night. My head filled with new thoughts. In a dream I saw the heavens open and I saw angels who all looked rather like you, as a matter of fact.

News of your marriage to the Duke of Sidonia then reached Vera Cruz. For some time I had been thinking of devoting myself to the religious life. I found happiness in praying night and day for your felicity in this world and your salvation in the next. My devout teacher told me that in the monasteries of America there had been much relaxation of the rule and he advised me to undertake my noviciate in a monastery in Madrid.

I let my father know of my resolve. He had always frowned on my devotions, but not wanting to dissuade me from them openly he asked me to await the arrival of my mother, which was shortly due. I told him that I no longer had parents in this world and that heaven was now my family. To this he had no reply. Then I went to see the corregidor, who approved of my plans and embarked me on the next ship. On arriving in Bilbao I learnt that my mother had set sail for America. My letters of obedience were for Madrid. I set out on that road. In passing through Burgos, I learnt that you were residing not far from the city. I decided to see you for one last time before leaving the world. It seemed to me that, having seen you, I would be able to pray for your salvation with even greater fervour.

So I took the road to your country house. I entered the outer courtyard and decided to look for an old retainer, one of those whom you had in Astorgas for I knew that they had not left you. I wanted to make myself known to the first one who came by, and ask him to find me a place from which I could see you as you stepped into your carriage. For I wanted to see you, not to introduce myself to you.

The only people who came by were unknown to me and I began to feel ashamed at being there. I went into a quite empty room, then I thought I saw someone I knew go by. I went out and was knocked down by a blow from a stone… But Señora, I see that my story has made a deep impression on you…

Hermosito got up and I thought that he wanted to kiss the hem of my dress. His knees buckled under him. His head fell on my knees and his arms held me in a strong embrace. At that moment I looked into a mirror in which I saw la Menzia and the duke; his features wore an expression of rage which was so frightening that it was hard to recognize him.

My senses froze in horror. I looked again into the same mirror and saw nothing. I freed myself from Hermosito’s arms and cried out. La Menzia came. I ordered her to look after the young man and withdrew into a study. The vision I had seen caused me deep worry but I was assured that the duke was absent.

The next day I asked for news of Hermosito. I was told that he was no longer in the house.

Three days later, as I was ready to retire to bed, la Menzia handed me a letter from the duke. It consisted only of the following words:

I heard the rattle of chains. My blindfold was removed; I saw Hermosito attached by the neck to the pillar against which you are leaning. There was no life in his eyes. He was extremely pale.

‘Is that you?’ he said in a dying voice. ‘I find it difficult to speak to you. I am not given any water. My tongue is stuck to my palate. My agony will not be long. If I go to heaven I shall speak there about you.’

As Hermosito uttered these words a gunshot, which came from the slit you see in this wall, shattered his arm. He cried out, ‘Oh God, forgive my executioners.’

A second shot rang out from the same direction. I don’t know what effect it had for I lost consciousness.

When I recovered the use of my senses I was surrounded by my ladies-in-waiting, who seemed to me to know nothing. All that they told me was that la Menzia had left the house. In the course of the morning an equerry came from my husband. He told me that the duke had gone to France on a secret mission and would not be back for some months. Left to myself I pulled myself together. I laid my case before the supreme judge of all and gave all my attention to my daughter.

Three months later la Girona appeared. She had come back from America and had already looked for her son in Madrid, in the monastery where he was to undertake his noviciate. Not having found him there, she had gone to Bilbao and had followed Hermosito’s tracks to Burgos. Fearing her distress and her anger, I told her part of the truth. She was able to drag the rest out of me.

As you know, the woman has a hard and violent character. Fury, rage and every terrible, destructive feeling took hold of her heart. I was too distressed myself to be able to bring her relief from her sorrows.

One day la Girona, while rearranging her room, discovered a door hidden behind a wall-hanging, and through it went down to the vault. She recognized the pillar which I had described to her. It was still stained with blood. She came to see me in a state bordering on frenzy. Thereafter she shut herself away in her room, or rather she went down into that awful vault to think of ways of exacting vengeance.

A month later, I was told that the duke had returned. He came in in a calm and composed manner, greeted my daughter affectionately and then, asking me to sit down, seated himself beside me.

‘Señora,’ he said. ‘I have thought long and hard about how I should behave towards you. I will not alter my behaviour. In the house you will be served with the same degree of respect and you will receive from me in appearance, at least, the same signs of esteem. This will last until your daughter reaches the age of sixteen years…’

‘And when my daughter is sixteen, what will happen?’ I asked the duke.

At this moment la Girona came in, bringing chocolate. The idea crossed my mind that it was poisoned.

But the duke spoke again and said, ‘When your daughter is sixteen, I shall say to her, “Daughter, your features remind me of those of a woman whose story I shall tell you. She was beautiful and her soul seemed even more so. But her virtue was feigned. By putting on appearances, she managed to make the greatest match in Spain. One day her husband had to leave her for a few weeks. At once she summoned from her province a little wretch. They remembered their previous loves and fell into each other’s arms. Daughter, there is that execrable hypocrite. She is your mother.” Then I will banish you from my presence, and you will go away to shed tears on the tomb of a mother who was as unworthy as you are.’

The injustice of the situation so hardened my soul that this awful speech had little effect on me. I took my daughter up in my arms and withdrew to another room.

Unfortunately I forgot about the chocolate. As I learnt later the duke had eaten nothing for two days. The cup had been placed in front of him. He drained it to the last drop.

Then he went into his own apartment. Half an hour later he ordered Dr Sangre Moreno to be brought to the house and that no one else but him should be admitted.

Someone went to the doctor’s house. He had left it for a house in the country where he practised dissection. This was quickly visited but he was no longer there. He was looked for on his usual round of visits, but arrived only three hours later and found the duke dead.

Sangre Moreno examined the body very carefully. He looked at the nails, eyes and tongue. He had a number of flasks brought for some purpose or other. Then he came to see me and said, ‘Señora, you may be certain that the duke died from the effect of a detestable but skilful mixture of narcotic resin and a corrosive metal. It is not my profession to call for blood, and I leave the task of uncovering crimes to the supreme judge above. I shall announce that the duke died of apoplexy.’

Other doctors then came and confirmed Sangre Moreno’s opinion.

I summoned la Girona and relayed to her what the doctor had said. Her distress betrayed her.

‘You have poisoned my husband!’ I said to her. ‘How could a Christian commit such a crime?’

‘I am a Christian,’ she said. ‘But I was a mother. If someone slit the throat of your child you would perhaps become more cruel than a raging lioness.’

I pointed out to her that she could have poisoned me instead of the duke.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I was looking through the keyhole. If you had but touched the cup, I would have come in at once.’

Then the Capuchins arrived to ask for the duke’s body. And as they brandished an order from the archbishop it could not be refused them.

La Girona, who up till then had shown great intrepidity, seemed all at once to be anxious and nervous. She was afraid that during the embalming of the body traces of poison would be found. She was haunted by this idea to the point where her very sanity was threatened. Her pleas forced me into the abduction which has procured for us the honour of having you with us. The exaggerated speech I made in the cemetery was designed to fool my servants. When we saw that it was you who had been carried off it was necessary to fool them again. Another body has been buried in the garden chapel.

But in spite of all these precautions, la Girona is not easy in her mind. She speaks of returning to America and wants you to be locked away until she has decided what to do. As for me, I have no fears. If ever I am questioned I shall tell the truth. I have let la Girona know that. The duke’s injustice and cruelty rid me of all affection for him and I would never have been able to bring myself to live with him. All my hopes of happiness lie with my daughter and I am not worried about her future. Twenty grandeeships have accumulated in her person. That is enough to ensure that she will be well received into some family.

And that, young friend, is what you wanted to know. La Girona knows that I have told you the whole of our story. She thinks you should not be left knowing just half of it.

But the atmosphere of this vault is stifling. I am going upstairs to breathe more freely.

Throughout my time at the Theatine college I often thought about the good fortune which the few small beggars who stood at the door of our church seemed to enjoy. Their fate seemed clearly preferable to mine. Indeed, while I grew pale over my books without any chance of completely satisfying my masters, these young children of poverty roamed the streets and played cards for chestnuts on the steps of the church. They fought each other without being forcibly separated. They got dirty without being made to wash. They undressed in the street and washed their shirts in the gutter. Could there be any more pleasant way of passing the time?

These thoughts on the happy lives of these young urchins came back to me in my prison. And thinking about the best course of action for me to follow, it seemed to me to be that of adopting the profession of beggar for the time my penance was to last. It is true that I had had an education which might have given me away through my having more polished speech than my colleagues, but I hoped to take on their accent and manners without difficulty and return to my own in due course. This decision was odd but at bottom it was the best I could take in the situation in which I found myself.

Once I had made my mind up, I broke the blade of a knife and started working on one of the iron bars of the grille. It took me five days to work it free. I carefully collected up the bits of stone and put them back around the bar so nothing could be seen.

The day I finished this task la Girona brought me my basket. I asked her whether she wasn’t afraid that it might come to be known that she was supplying food to a young man in the cellar of the house.

‘No,’ she replied, ‘the trap-door through which you came down leads into a separate building, the one where you had been laid out. I have had the door bricked up on the pretext that it brought back sad memories to the duchess. The passage by which we come down ends in my bedroom and the entry to it is hidden by a wall-hanging.’

‘I trust that there’s a good iron door at that end,’ I said.

‘No,’ she replied. ‘The door is quite light but it’s very well hidden. In any case, I keep my bedroom door locked. In this house I believe there to be other similar vaults, put there by other jealous husbands who have committed similar crimes.’

Having said this, la Girona seemed to want to go away.

‘Why go away so soon?’ I asked her.

‘Because the duchess wants to go out. Today she has completed the first six weeks of her mourning and she wants to go for a ride.’

Having learnt what I needed to know, I did not detain la Girona any longer. She went away again without closing the vault door. I hastily wrote a letter of apology and thanks to the duchess, and put it on the bars. Next I loosened the iron bar and entered first the vault of the two ladies, and then a dark passage which ended in a door which I found shut. I heard the sounds of a coach and horses and concluded that the duchess had gone out and that the nurse was not in her room.

I set myself to the task of breaking the door down. It was half-rotten and yielded as soon as I tried to break it. I then found myself in the nurse’s bedroom and, knowing that she took care to keep the door locked, I thought that I could stay there in safety.

I saw my face in a mirror and decided that my appearance did not yet correspond to the profession I was to embrace. I took a piece of charcoal from a grate and used it to dull the colour of my skin. After that I made some rents in my shirt and clothing. Then I went to the window. It looked out on to a small garden, once favoured by the presence of the masters of the house but now utterly abandoned. I opened the window and could see no other which looked out in the same direction. It wasn’t very high and I could have jumped down into the garden but I preferred to use la Girona’s sheets. After that, the frame of an old bower afforded me the means of climbing up on to the wall, from which I took flight into the countryside, delighted to be able to breathe the country air and yet more so to be free of Theatines, Inquisitions, duchesses and their nurses.

I saw the city of Burgos far off, but went in the opposite direction. I reached a low tavern. I showed the innkeeper’s wife a twenty-real coin which I had carefully wrapped in paper, and told her I wanted to spend all the money in her inn. She began to laugh and gave me bread and onions worth double the sum. I had some money but was afraid of letting it be seen, so I went to the stable and there I slept as one sleeps when one is sixteen years old.

I reached Madrid without anything happening to me which is worth relating. I entered the city at nightfall. I was able to find my aunt’s house and I leave it to your imagination how pleased she was to see me. But I only spent a moment there for fear of giving my presence away. I went right across Madrid, came to the Prado and there I lay down on the ground and fell asleep.

As soon as it was light I went around the streets and squares to select a place where I intended mainly to practise my profession. Passing by the Calle de Toledo, I met a servant girl carrying a bottle of ink. I asked her whether she wasn’t from the house of Señor Avadoro.

‘No,’ she replied. ‘I have come from the house of Don Felipe del Tintero Largo.’

So it was that I discovered that my father was still known by the same name and still passed his time in the same pursuits.

Meanwhile I had to think about a place to live. Under the portals of St Roch, I caught sight of a few urchins of my age with faces which predisposed me in their favour. I went up to them and said that I was a boy from the provinces; I had come to Madrid to commend myself to charitable souls, I had a small handful of reals left and if there was a common kitty I would willingly place this money in it.

This first speech predisposed them in my favour. They said that they indeed had a common kitty which was kept by a chestnut-seller whose pitch was at the end of the street. They took me to her and then we all came back to the portal, where we started playing tarot.

As we were engrossed in this game, which requires quite a lot of attention, a well-dressed man appeared and seemed to examine us all closely, first one then another. Then, apparently deciding on me, he called me over and told me to follow him. He led me into a quiet street and said, ‘My boy, I have preferred you to your comrades because your face indicates that you have more wit than they and that will be needed for the task I want you to do for me. This is what it is about. Many women will pass by this spot, all wearing black velvet dresses and a black lace mantilla which hides their faces so well that it is impossible to see who they are. But luckily the patterns of the velvet and the lace are not the same and thus are ways of detecting who these unknown beauties are. I am the lover of one such person, who loves me and who seems to have a propensity to be inconsistent. I have decided to discover whether this is so or not. Here are two samples of velvet and two of lace. If two women go by whose clothes correspond, you will look closely to see whether they go into this church or into the house opposite, which is that of the Knight of Toledo. And then you will come to the tavern at the end of the street and tell me. Here is a gold piece. You will be given another if you acquit yourself well of this mission.’

While the man was speaking to me, I had examined him very closely. He didn’t seem to me to look like a lover, but rather a husband. The rage of the Duke of Sidonia came back to my mind. I jibbed at sacrificing the interests of love to the dark suspicions of marriage. So I decided to accomplish only half the mission, that is to say, if the two women went into the church I decided that I would tell the jealous husband, but if they went elsewhere I would, on the contrary, warn them of the danger which threatened them. I returned to my comrades, telling them to continue their game without paying attention to me. Then I lay down behind them, keeping my eye on the samples of velvet and lace.

Soon many women came in pairs, and eventually two who were indeed wearing the materials of which I had samples. The two women made as if to go into the church, but they stopped under the portal, looked all around them to see if they were being followed and then hurried across the street as fast as they could and went into the house opposite.

Velásquez then spoke and said, ‘Really, this story alarms me. All the gypsy’s stories begin in a simple enough way and you think you can already predict the end. But things turn out quite differently. The first story engenders the second, from which a third is born, and so on, like periodic fractions resulting from certain divisions which can be indefinitely prolonged. In mathematics there are several ways of bringing certain progressions to a conclusion, whereas in this case an inextricable confusion is the only result I can obtain from all the gypsy has related.’

‘In spite of that you derive great pleasure from listening to them,’ said Rebecca. ‘If I am not mistaken, you were to go directly to Madrid, yet you can’t bear to leave us.’

‘There are two reasons which keep me in this place,’ replied Velásquez. ‘First, I have begun important calculations which I want to finish here. Second, Señora, I must confess to you that I have never found so much pleasure in the company of a woman as I have in yours or rather, to be more precise, that you are the only woman whose conversation gives me pleasure.’

‘Señor duque,’ replied the Jewess, ‘I would indeed be happy if the secondary reason became the primary one.’

‘You shouldn’t be too upset about whether I think of you before or after I think about geometry,’ said Velásquez. ‘What upsets me is something else – not knowing what to call you. I am reduced to designating you by the symbol x, y or z, which we use in algebra for unknown quantities.’

‘I would willingly entrust to you the secret of my name,’ said the Jewess, ‘if I did not have to fear the results of your absent-mindedness.’

‘There is nothing to fear,’ interrupted Velásquez. ‘Through the frequent practice of substitution in calculations I have acquired the habit of always designating the same values in the same way. As soon as you have given me your name you couldn’t change it even if you wanted to.’

‘Very well,’ said Rebecca. ‘Call me Laura de Uzeda.’

‘With the greatest pleasure,’ said Velásquez. ‘Or fair Laura, clever Laura, charming Laura, for there are many mathematical exponents of your base value.’

As they were chatting I remembered the promise I had made to the brigand to meet him four hundred yards west of the camp. I took a sword with me and when I had gone a certain distance, I heard a pistol shot. I went towards the forest from which the shot had come and met the men with whom I had already had dealings. Their chief said to me, ‘Welcome, Señor caballero. I see that you keep your word, and do not doubt that you are brave as well. Do you see that tunnel in the rock? It leads to an underground cave where you are very impatiently awaited. I hope that you will not disappoint the trust that has been placed in you.’

I went into the tunnel while the stranger stayed outside. After a few paces I heard a loud noise behind me and saw an enormous stone, which was moved by a secret mechanism, shutting off the entry. The dim light which came through the chink in the rock soon disappeared in that dark tunnel. But in spite of the darkness I went forward at a good pace, for the path was smooth and the slope gentle. I wasn’t required to expend much effort, but I imagined that many another person would have felt terror as they went down without a visible goal into the bowels of the earth. I walked for two whole hours, one hand holding my sword, the other extended to protect me from bumping into things.

Suddenly I felt a breath close to mine, and a sweet, melodious voice said, ‘By what right does a mortal dare to come down into the kingdom of the gnomes?’

An equally seductive voice replied, ‘Perhaps he has come to rob us of our treasure.’

The first one then said, ‘If he would consent to throw down his sword, we could come near him.’

After that I said, ‘Charming gnomesses! I recognize you by your voices, if I am not mistaken. I may not throw down my sword but I have stuck its point into the earth so you can come near without fear.’

These chthonic divinities then threw their arms round me, though a secret instinct told me that they were my cousins. Suddenly there was bright light on every side and I saw that I was not mistaken. They led me towards a cave decorated with carpets and minerals shot through with countless opalescent colours.

‘Well,’ said Emina. ‘Are you pleased to meet us again? You are now living in the company of a young Israelite who is as intelligent as she is charming.’

‘I can assure you,’ I replied, ‘that Rebecca has made no impression on me. On the other hand, every time I meet you, I am anxious in case it may be the last. People have tried to convince me that you are evil spirits but I did not believe them. An inner voice tells me that you are creatures of my kind meant for love. It is always claimed that one can only truly love one woman. This is indisputably false because I love the two of you equally. My heart does not distinguish in any way between you. You both reign there in common.’

‘Oh,’ cried Emina, ‘it is the blood of the Abencerrages that speaks in you because you can love two women at the same time; so adopt the sacred faith which permits polygamy.’

‘You might then accede to the throne of Tunis,’ added Zubeida. ‘If only you could see that enchanting country, the harems of Bardo and Manouba, the gardens, fountains, marvellous baths and thousands of young slave girls even prettier than us!’

‘Enough of kingdoms on which the sun shines,’ I replied. ‘We are in an abyss, and however close we might be to hell we can here know the sensual pleasures which the prophet, it is said, promises to his elect.’

Emina smiled nostalgically, and looked at me tenderly; and Zubeida put her arms round my neck.