ur mother nor
myself, who were disciples of the great Camacha, ever came to know as
much as she did, and that not for want of capacity, but through her
inordinate selfishness, which could never endure that we should learn
the higher mysteries of her art, and be as wise as herself. Your mother,
my son, was called Montiela, and next to Camacha, she was the most
famous of witches. My name is Canizares; and, if not equal in
proficiency to either of these two, at least I do not yield to them in
good will to the art. It is true that in boldness of spirit, in the
intrepidity with which she entered a circle, and remained enclosed in it
with a legion of fiends, your mother was in no wise inferior to Camacha
herself; while, for my part, I was always somewhat timid, and contented
myself with conjuring half a legion; but though I say it that should
not, in the matter of compounding witches' ointment, I would not turn my
back upon either of them, no, nor upon any living who follow our rules.
But you must know, my son, ever since I have felt how fast my life is
hastening away upon the light wings of time, I have sought to withdraw
from all the wickedness of witchcraft in which I was plunged for many
years, and I have only amused myself with white magic, a practice so
engaging that it is most difficult to forego it. Your mother acted in
the same manner; she abandoned many evil practices, and performed many
righteous works; but she would not relinquish white magic to the hour of
her death. She had no malady, but died by the sorrow brought upon her by
her mistress, Camacha, who hated her because she saw that in a short
time Montiela would know as much as herself, unless indeed she had some
other cause of jealousy not known to me.

"Your mother was pregnant, and her time being come, Camacha was her
midwife. She received in her hands what your mother brought forth, and
showed her that she had borne two puppy dogs. 'This is a bad business,'
said Camacha; 'there is some knavery here. But, sister Montiela, I am
your friend, and I will conceal this unfortunate birth; so have patience
and get well, and be assured that your misfortune shall remain an
inviolable secret.' I was present at this extraordinary occurrence, and
was not less astounded than your mother. Camacha went away taking the
whelps with her, and I remained to comfort the lying-in woman, who could
not bring herself to believe what had happened. At last Camacha's end
drew near, and