Don Juan lives in a narrow street, a stone’s throw from the gate of the Alcazar. His house still remains, a curious monument of the times; a small, low building with a quaint projecting attic and casements guarded by rows of low Saracenic arches. Of course there is a fountain in the small pillared _patio_ where he received his friends. If it is the same little pillar of spray as in Don Juan’s time hummed and splashed through the long summer days, I cannot say, or if he was served by the identical Leporello we know so well, and scolded by the shrewish wife Doña Elvira, who always sings in “_alt_.” But it is certain that the low door of his house gave access nightly to crowds of rollicking guests and fair masked señoras, and that the king in disguise often stepped across the street from the Alcazar to take part in the revelry. The real Don Juan lives in evil times. Seville is growing desperate with the tyranny of the king. The name of Enrique el Caballero is whispered everywhere as a saviour to an oppressed people. It is said indeed that he has again been proclaimed king at Cahorra by his followers, at the head of the _Grandes Compagnies_, and that Charles V. of France treats with him as friend to friend. The priests despise Don Pedro because he lies under an interdict, and no masses can be said in the churches; the libertines hate him because he judges them severely and gives such large measure to himself; and the lovers and husbands because no woman is safe. No two men are of the same mind in this divided city. The houses are barricaded, the towers turned into fortresses, the iron lattices of the windows, where true lovers whisper, into loopholes for pikes and arrows; the black crosses in the plazas are stained with blood, and the dead often lie unburied in the _calle_. In all these disorders Don Juan is a leader, cutting down the king’s enemies like dogs, and anathematising all rebels to his cause. “Let us make merry ere we die,” is the cry of the _Sevillianos_, not knowing what may befall; and so they pass the time in the certainty of coming warfare between Don Enrique and the king, in rioting and profligacy. The very priests live like gallants, and the nuns trail silken gowns. Merry-makings and orgies are held even in the churches, and drinking and dancing are common among the graves, much to Don Juan’s delight as a scoffer and a blasphemer, who gaily foots it to a rattling measure with the bones. From dancing the citizens get to fighting; a few cry for Don Pedro, but more shout for El Caballero and thus from bad to worse the evil days pass along. * * * * * There is a homely proverb which says, “The devil will have his own.” This is proved in the history of Don Juan de Mañara. During an orgy, at which another noted gallant and profligate, Don Santiago de Augebo, is present, a _gitana_ of great beauty slips in to sell flowers to the noble señors lounging in drunken mirth among the wine-cups.