There was in the same quarter of the city a pastrycook called Ceferino. It had been observed that this shop was the nightly resort of a female attendant of Clara, who made purchases of the most delicate and savoury articles of this good man’s manufacture, nor could he imagine from whom she came or where she went, for instead of going into the vicinity with the precious load, she invariably made off in a direction for the heart of the city, and was soon out of sight. One night, however, one of Ceferino’s workmen was determined to follow her closely. He did so, and after many an artful dodge through streets, lanes, courts, and alleys, she entered the house of _beata_ Clara. The fact was kept secret from the public, but information was given privately to the police, who late at night entered the suspected dwelling, and there surprised Clara and her confessor, who were both elegantly dressed, and sitting at a table profusely served up with viands and wines of the most _recherché_ descriptions. The inquisition at once seized their persons, and proceeded to try them for their crimes. The confessor, who was a young robust Franciscan friar, was condemned to perpetual imprisonment in one of the most severe convents of the order. The _beata_ Clara was paraded through the streets of Madrid, _honeyed and feathered_, and mounted on a jack-ass, and then sent to be imprisoned in a house of penance for the remainder of her life. The other fact which we have alluded to and promised some account of to our readers, dates in more modern times; indeed, all the actors in that far-famed farce are still living.