I entreat you, therefore, to follow me, cavalier, who am at all times and seasons the most obedient and devoted of your servants.” Here he took off his hat and bowed profoundly. Such was the speech of the _alcayde_ of the prison of Madrid; a speech delivered in pure sonorous Castilian, with calmness, gravity, and almost with dignity; a speech which would have done honour to a gentleman of high birth, to Monsieur Bassompierre, of the Old Bastile, receiving an Italian prince, or the High Constable of the Tower an English duke attainted of high treason. Now, who in the name of wonder was this _alcayde_? One of the greatest rascals in all Spain. A fellow who had more than once, by his grasping cupidity, and by his curtailment of the miserable rations of the prisoners, caused an insurrection in the court below, only to be repressed by bloodshed, and by summoning military aid; a fellow of low birth, who, only five years previous, had been _drummer_ to a band of royalist volunteers! But Spain is the land of extraordinary characters. I followed the _alcayde_ to the end of the corridor, where was a massive grated door, on each side of which sat a grim fellow of a turnkey. The door was opened, and turning to the right we proceeded down another corridor, in which were many people walking about, whom I subsequently discovered to be prisoners like myself, but for political offences. At the end of this corridor, which extended the whole length of the _patio_, we turned into another, and the first apartment in this was the one destined for myself. It was large and lofty, but totally destitute of every species of furniture with the exception of a huge wooden pitcher, intended to hold my daily allowance of water. “_Caballero_,” said the _alcayde_, “the apartment is without furniture, as you see. It is already the third hour of the _tarde_, I therefore advise you to lose no time in sending to your lodgings for a bed and whatever you may stand in need of; the _llavero_ shall do your bidding. _Caballero_, adieu, till I see you again.” I followed his advice, and, writing a note in pencil to Maria Diaz, I despatched it by the _llavero_, and then, sitting down on the wooden pitcher, I fell into a reverie, which continued for a considerable time. Night arrived, and so did Maria Diaz, attended by two porters and Francisco, all loaded with furniture. A lamp was lighted, charcoal was kindled in the _brasero_, and the prison gloom was to a certain degree dispelled.