‘Not a lady is there, either in Old Spain or in New—the saints be blessed for it! who hath even a tithe of my mistress’s virtues. So was it indeed with her father before her, and so will it be with her daughter after her; for I have well-known all three—albeit my young mistress is not yet turned of seventeen. Notwithstanding, however, she is already a most dainty and brave lady; her equal not being to be found in any city or colony in the Main, for which I bless the saints, and particularly Saint Gieronimo, who is indeed my mistress’s patron saint, and would be mine also, were it not that I would not venture to intrude upon his holy notice my poor concerns, his attention being no doubt, fully taken up with those of my betters.’ Running on in this random way, the old man led me, while he talked, through the garden towards the house. It was his lady’s pleasure, he said, that I should eat a good supper, repose me in a good bed, and that I should to-morrow be introduced to herself and her daughter, they having, however, as I learned much to my surprise, already been made acquainted with some portions of my story, and longing to know the rest. As we spoke thus, we entered a wing of a handsome mansion, pillared and porticoed all round, and having a flat roof, whereon were set pots and tubs containing delicate flowering shrubs. We traversed divers passages, through which the fresh night air freely penetrated, and I could not but admire the delicate carving of the polished wood which formed the wainscoting of the walls. At length we entered a pleasant chamber, where was a bed, and a table well laid out for supper. You may imagine that I played a very good knife and fork, and the old steward or intendant, or whatever he was, bore me company with rare good will. After supper, we drank some of the most delicious wine to which I ever put my lips; and then, in answer to my earnest entreaties, my companion informed me of the name and quality of my preservers and hosts.