On a sudden Benedict became reserved and taciturn, which the more surprised me, as, up to the present moment, he had at all times been remarkably communicative with respect to his affairs and prospects. From what I could learn from his broken hints and innuendos, it appeared that, since his arrival at Madrid, he had fallen into the hands of certain people who had treated him with kindness, and provided him both with money and clothes; not from disinterested motives, however, but having an eye to the treasure. “They expect great things from me,” said the Swiss; “and perhaps, after all, it would have been more profitable to have dug up the treasure without their assistance, always provided that were possible.” Who his new friends were he either knew not or would not tell me, save that they were people in power. He said something about Queen Christina and an oath which he had taken in the presence of a bishop on the crucifix and the four _Evangelien_. I thought that his head was turned, and forbore questioning. Just before taking his departure, he observed, “_Lieber Herr_, pardon me for not being quite frank towards you, to whom I owe so much, but I dare not; I am not now my own man. It is, moreover, an evil thing at all times to say a word about treasure before you have secured it. There was once a man in my own country who dug deep into the earth until he arrived at a copper vessel which contained a _Schatz_. Seizing it by the handle, he merely exclaimed in his transport, ‘I have it!’ that was enough, however: down sank the kettle, though the handle remained in his grasp. That was all he ever got for his trouble and digging. Farewell, _lieber Herr_, I shall speedily be sent back to Saint James to dig up the _Schatz_; but I will visit you ere I go—farewell.” CHAPTER XLII. Liberation from Prison—The Apology—Human Nature—The Greek’s Return—Church of Rome—Light of Scripture—Archbishop of Toledo—An Interview—Stones of Price—A Resolution—The Foreign Language—Benedict’s Farewell—Treasure Hunt at Compostella—Truth and Fiction. I remained about three weeks in the prison of Madrid, and then left it. If I had possessed any pride, or harboured any rancour against the party who had consigned me to durance, the manner in which I was restored to liberty would no doubt have been highly gratifying to those evil passions; the government having acknowledged, by a document transmitted to Sir George, that I had been incarcerated on insufficient grounds, and that no stigma attached itself to me from the imprisonment I had undergone; at the same time agreeing to defray all the expenses to which I had been subjected throughout the progress of this affair.