er matter.

As soon as all the others were gone, Preciosa called Andrew aside, and
said to him, "Do you remember, Andrew, a paper I let fall in your house,
when I was dancing with my companions, and which caused you, I think,
some uneasiness?"

"I remember it well," said Andrew; "it was a madrigal in your praise,
and no bad one either."

"Well, you must know, Andrew, that the person who wrote those verses is
no other than the wounded youth we have left in the hut. I cannot be
mistaken, for he spoke to me two or three times in Madrid, and gave me
too a very good romance. He was then dressed, I think, as a page,--not
an ordinary one, but like a favourite of some prince. I assure you,
Andrew, he is a youth of excellent understanding, and remarkably well
behaved; and I cannot imagine what can have brought him hither, and in
such a garb."

"What should you imagine, Preciosa, but that the same power which has
made me a gitano, has made him put on the dress of a miller, and come in
search of you? Ah, Preciosa! Preciosa! how plain it begins to be that
you pride yourself on having more than one adorer. If this be so, finish
me first, and then kill off this other, but do not sacrifice both at the
same time to your perfidy."

"God's mercy, Andrew, how thin-skinned you are! On how fine a thread you
make your hopes and my reputation hang, since you let the cruel sword of
jealousy so easily pierce your soul. Tell me, Andrew, if there were any
artifice or deceit in this case, could I not have held my tongue about
this youth, and concealed all knowledge of him? Am I such a fool that I
cannot help telling you what should make you doubt my integrity and good
behaviour? Hold your tongue, Andrew, in God's name, and try to-morrow to
extract from this cause of your alarm whither he is bound, and why he
is come hither. It may be that you are mistaken in your suspicion,
though I am not mistaken in what I told you of the stranger. And now for
your greater satisfaction--since it is come to that pass with me that I
seek to satisfy you--whatever be the reason of this youth's coming, send
him away at once. All our people obey you, and none of them will care to
receive him into their huts against your wish. But if this fails, I give
you my word not to quit mine, or let myself be seen by him, or by
anybody else from whom you would have me concealed. Look you, Andrew, I
am not vexed at seeing you jealous, but it would vex me much to see you
indi