"A happy thought," said Beauvallet, pulling on his netherstocks. "I might perchance come up with my friend of last night." The Mentidero was a raised walk along the wall of the Church of San Felipe el Real, which stood at the entrance to the Calle Mayor. Here came the wits of the day, and the courtiers, to exchange gossip, to talk the latest scandal, to exhibit a new fashion in cloaks, or a new way of tying a garter. Under it were a score of little booths, where one might buy such trifles as a pair of embroidered gloves for a lady, a love-knot, or an ouch of wrought silver. Across the Calle Mayor lay the Oñate Palace, with the rough side-walk beneath where painters showed their pictures to attract the Court. The market lay in the centre of the Calle; there were water-carriers gathered there, and the scene was busy and noisy. Round about were shops, and here and there a coffee-house, where one might meet one's cronies. The gentleman from Andalusia was found upon the Mentidero, and professed himself charmed to meet the Chevalier again. Sir Nicholas joined him in his strolling up and down, and came at length to his business with him. In default of Don Manuel, whom he had hoped to meet, he would desire to present himself to Don Manuel's worthy brother-in-law. Yet he was uncertain how this project might be effected, since he could claim no acquaintance with the Carvalhos. The matter was very easily arranged. Don Juan de Aranda would himself present the Chevalier any time he should choose. He might meet Don Diego de Carvalho this very morning, if he wished, since Don Diego was abroad, after his usual custom, upon the Mentidero. They had passed him a while back, talking to de Lara and young Vasquez. They turned, therefore, and began to walk slowly back the way they had come. "I understand Don Diego to be a very proper caballero," Beauvallet remarked. "The only offspring, I believe?" "True, señor." Don Juan was a little reticent, and it struck Beauvallet that he had no great admiration for Don Diego. Presently he nodded, and spoke again. "There is Don Diego, señor: the smaller of the two." A slight young gentleman was lounging gracefully ahead of them, exchanging languid conversation with another, just as elegant. Don Diego was very dark, with black brows, almost meeting over the bridge of his nose, and full, curved lips. He wore a jewel in the lobe of his left ear, was very generously scented with musk, and twirled a rose between one very white finger and thumb. A flat velvet hat with a plume in it was set on his curled head at an angle; his ruff was large and edged with lace, and his short cloak was lined with carnation silk. Sir Nicholas looked, and said afterwards that he had an instant itching in his toe. Be that as it may, he went forward very pleasantly, and upon Don Juan's introduction, made his best bow.