The worthy clavero, Don Gutiere de Padilla, was pondering one day on this gloomy state of affairs when a Moor was brought before him who had surrendered himself at the gate of Alhama and claimed an audience. Don Gutiere was accustomed to visits of the kind from renegado Moors, who roamed the country as spies and adalides, but the countenance of this man was quite unknown to him. He had a box strapped to his shoulders containing divers articles of traffic, and appeared to be one of those itinerant traders who often resorted to Alhama and the other garrison towns under pretext of vending trivial merchandise, such as amulets, perfumes, and trinkets, but who often produced rich shawls, golden chains and necklaces, and valuable gems and jewels. The Moor requested a private conference with the clavero. “I have a precious jewel,” said he, “to dispose of.” “I want no jewels,” replied Don Gutiere. “For the sake of Him who died on the cross, the great prophet of your faith,” said the Moor solemnly, “refuse not my request; the jewel I speak of you alone can purchase, but I can only treat about it in secret.” Don Gutiere perceived there was something hidden under these mystic and figurative terms, in which the Moors were often accustomed to talk. He motioned to his attendants to retire. When they were alone the Moor looked cautiously around the apartment, and then, approaching close to the knight, demanded in a low voice, “What will you give me if I deliver the fortress of Zalea into your hands?” Don Gutiere looked with surprise at the humble individual that made such a suggestion. “What means have you,” said he, “of effecting such a proposition?” “I have a brother in the garrison of Zalea,” replied the Moor, “who for a proper compensation would admit a body of troops into the citadel.” Don Gutiere turned a scrutinizing eye upon the Moor. “What right have I to believe,” said he, “that thou wilt be truer to me than to those of thy blood and thy religion?” “I renounce all ties to them, either of blood or religion,” replied the Moor; “my mother was a Christian captive; her country shall henceforth be my country, and her faith my faith.” * * Cura de los Palacios. The doubts of Don Gutiere were not dispelled by this profession of mongrel Christianity. “Granting the sincerity of thy conversion,” said he, “art thou under no obligations of gratitude or duty to the alcayde of the fortress thou wouldst betray?” The eyes of the Moor flashed fire at the words; he gnashed his teeth with fury. “The alcayde,” cried he, “is a dog! He has deprived my brother of his just share of booty; he has robbed me of my merchandise, treated me worse than a Jew when I murmured at his injustice, and ordered me to be thrust forth ignominiously from his walls. May the curse of God fall upon my head if I rest content until I have full revenge!” “Enough,” said Don Gutiere: “I trust more to thy revenge than thy religion.”