The next morning, by break of day, the lady of the house appeared at my bed's head. She was a good sort of old woman, at the years of discretion, past fifty-five, a great pair of beads in her hand, a face like a dried apple, or a walnut shell, it was so full of furrows. She had a great name in the neighbourhood, and so she lay in bed till noon when she pleased, and with as many as pleased. She promoted pleasure and contrived delight; her name was one La Guia; her trade to let lodgings at home, and hire others abroad. Her house was never without lodgers all the year round. It was pleasant to see how she instructed a young girl in veiling herself, teaching her what parts of her face she must be sure to expose to sight. If she had good teeth, she advised her to be always a-laughing, though it were at a visit of condolence; if she had fine hands, she taught her to be always playing with them; if fair hair, to have some loose locks peeping out under the veil; if good eyes, to be continually ogling; and if sparkling small ones, to shut and then open them wide, and be sure to look up. As for washes, and other cosmetics for the skin, she would make an Ethiopian as fair of complexion as a Dane; so that many women came to her, and went home so altered, that their own husbands did not know them; but her greatest art consisted in mending virgins, and making up damsels. All this I saw performed by the time I had been but eight days in the house; and to complete all, she directed the women how to pick pockets, and taught them what pretty expressions they should use. She showed them how they should wheedle a jewel out of a man; young girls were to do it by way of pleasantry and jest, ripe maids as a due, and old women as a piece of respect and obligation. She put them in the way how to beg money, and how to draw rings and other trinkets. Upon occasion, she quoted some famous ones of her own profession at Alcalá, at Burgos, and in other parts of Spain where any had gained renown in this art of cullying. I have given this account of her that I may be pitied, considering into what hands I was fallen; and the words she said to me may be the more taken notice of. She was always very fond of proverbs, and began her speech after this manner: "'Where you take and not put, you soon reach the bottom'; 'As you sow, so will you reap'; 'As the wedding so the cake.' My son, Don Philip, to deal plainly, I do not understand you, nor can I conceive how you live. You are young, and it is no wonder you should be somewhat wild, without considering, that even whilst we sleep, we are travelling to our end. I, who have now one foot in the grave, have the privilege to tell you so much. It is very odd I should be told that you spent much money, and nobody knows how; and that you have, since you came to town, sometimes appeared like a scholar, sometimes a sharper, and sometimes like a gentleman. All this comes of keeping company; for, my son, 'tell