“That is my name, to take or to leave, señor?”—And I looked at him in turn. “Andres de Fonseca,” he replied bowing, “a physician of this city, well known enough, especially among the fair. Well, Señor Diego, I take your name, for names are nothing, and at times it is convenient to change them, which is nobody’s business except their owners”. I see that you are a stranger in this city—no need to look surprised, señor, one who is familiar with a town does not gaze and stare and ask the path of passers-by, nor does a native of Seville walk on the sunny side of the street in summer. And now, if you will not think me impertinent, I will ask you what can be the business of so healthy a young man with my rival yonder?” And he nodded towards the house of the famous physician. “A man’s business, like his name, is his own affair, señor,” I answered, setting my host down in my mind as one of those who disgrace our art by plying openly for patients that they may capture their fees. “Still, I will tell you. I am also a physician, though not yet fully qualified, and I seek a place where I may help some doctor of repute in his daily practice, and thus gain experience and my living with it.” “Ah is it so? Well, señor, then you will look in vain yonder,” and again he nodded towards the physician’s house. “Such as he will take no apprentice without the fee be large indeed; it is not the custom of this city.” “Then I must seek a livelihood elsewhere, or otherwise.” “I did not say so. Now, señor, let us see what you know of medicine, and what is more important, of human nature, for of the first none of us can ever know much, but he who knows the latter will be a leader of men—or of women—who lead the men.” And without more ado he put me many questions, each of them so shrewd and going so directly to the heart of the matter in hand, that I marvelled at his sagacity. Some of these questions were medical, dealing chiefly with the ailments of women, others were general and dealt more with their characters. At length he finished. “You will do, señor,” he said; “you are a young man of parts and promise, though, as was to be expected from one of your years, you lack experience. There is stuff in you, señor, and you have a heart, which is a good thing, for the blunders of a man with a heart often carry him further than the cunning of the cynic; also you have a will and know how to direct it.” I bowed, and did my best to hold back my satisfaction at his words from showing in my face.