_Myself_.—Did you not hear me speak in the _foros_ about God and _Tebleque_? It was to declare His glory to the _Calés_ and Gentiles that I came to the land of Spain. _Antonio_.—And who sent you on this errand? _Myself_.—You would scarcely understand me were I to inform you. Know, however, that there are many in foreign lands who lament the darkness which envelops Spain, and the scenes of cruelty, robbery, and murder which deform it. _Antonio_.—Are they _Caloré_ or _Busné_? _Myself_.—What matters it? Both _Caloré_ and _Busné_ are sons of the same God. _Antonio_.—You lie, brother; they are not of one father nor of one _Errate_. You speak of robbery, cruelty, and murder. There are too many _Busné_, brother; if there were no _Busné_ there would be neither robbery nor murder. The _Caloré_ neither rob nor murder each other, the _Busné_ do; nor are they cruel to their animals, their law forbids them. When I was a child I was beating a _burra_, but my father stopped my hand, and chided me. “Hurt not the animal,” said he; “for within it is the soul of your own sister!” _Myself_.—And do you believe in this wild doctrine, O Antonio? _Antonio_.—Sometimes I do, sometimes I do not. There are some who believe in nothing; not even that they live! Long since, I knew an old _Caloró_—he was old, very old, upwards of a hundred years—and I once heard him say, that all we thought we saw was a lie; that there was no world, no men nor women, no horses nor mules, no olive-trees. But whither are we straying? I asked what induced you to come to this country—you tell me, the glory of God and _Tebleque_. _Disparate_! tell that to the _Busné_. You have good reasons for coming, no doubt, else you would not be here. Some say you are a spy of the _Londoné_. Perhaps you are; I care not. Rise, brother, and tell me whether any one is coming down the pass. “I see a distant object,” I replied; “like a speck on the side of the hill.” The gypsy started up, and we both fixed our eyes on the object: the distance was so great that it was at first with difficulty that we could distinguish whether it moved or not. A quarter of an hour, however, dispelled all doubts, for within this time it had nearly reached the bottom of the hill, and we could descry a figure seated on an animal of some kind. “It is a woman,” said I, at length, “mounted on a grey donkey.” “Then it is my messenger,” said Antonio, “for it can be no other.”