Scene IV.—_A post-house on the road to Segovia, not far from the village of El Pardillo. Enter Chispa cracking a whip, and singing the Cachucha._ _Chis._ Halloo! the post-house! Let us have horses! and quickly. Alas, poor Chispa! what a dog’s life dost thou lead! I thought when I left my old master Victorian, the student, to serve my new master Don Carlos, the gentleman, that I too should lead the life of a gentleman; should go to bed early, and get up late. But in running away from the thunder I have run into the lightning. Here I am in hot chase after my old master and his gipsy girl. And a good beginning of the week it is, as he said who was hanged on Monday morning. (_Enter Don Carlos._) _Don C._ Are not the horses ready yet? _Chis._ I should think not, for the hostler seems to be asleep. Ho! within there! Horses! horses! horses! (_He knocks at the gate with his whip, and enter Mosquito, putting on his jacket._) _Mos._ Pray have a little patience. I’m not a musket. _Chis._ I’m glad to see you come on dancing, padre! Pray, what’s the news? _Mos._ You cannot have fresh horses; because there are none. _Chis._ Cachiporra! Throw that bone to another dog. Do I look like your aunt? _Mos._ No; she has a beard. _Chis._ Go to! go to! _Mos._ Are you from Madrid? _Chis._ Yes; and going to Estramadura. Get us horses. _Mos._ What’s the news at court? _Chis._ Why, the latest news is that I am going to set up a coach, and, as you see, I have already bought the whip. (_Strikes him round the legs._) _Mos._ Oh! oh! you hurt me! _Don C._ Enough of this folly. Let us have horses. (_Gives money to Mosquito._) It is almost dark; and we are in haste. But tell me, has a band of gipsies passed this way of late? _Mos._ Yes; and they are still in the neighborhood. _Don C._ And where? _Mos._ Across the fields yonder, in the woods near El Pardillo. [_Exit._ _Don C._ Now this is lucky. We’ll turn aside and visit the gipsy camp. _Chis._ Are you not afraid of the evil eye? Have you a stag’s horn with you? _Don C._ Fear not. We will pass the night at the village. _Chis._ And sleep like the squires of Hernan Daza, nine under one blanket. _Don C._ I hope we may find the Preciosa among them. _Chis._ Among the squires? _Don C._ No; among the gipsies, blockhead! _Chis._ I hope we may; for we are giving ourselves trouble enough on her account. Don’t you think so? However, there is no catching trout without wetting one’s trowsers. Yonder come the horses. [_Exeunt._ Scene V.—_The gipsy camp in the forest. Night. Gipsies working at a forge. Others playing cards by the fire light._ _Gipsies at the forge sing._ On the top of a mountain I stand, With a crown of red gold in my hand, Wild Moors come trooping over the lea, Oh how from their fury shall I flee, flee, flee? O how from their fury shall I flee?