"Curses upon you and all that you may bring forth, on your burying, on your children and your children's children!" cried the woman. "Come--come--that will do, Tia," cried Luis, striking the table with his hand. "I value not your curses this single fig of Spain." (Here he made towards her the gesture with finger and thumb which averts the evil eye.) "But if I hear any more of this I will put you to the door without so much as a single silver spoon. Whereupon you will be welcome to do your worst." "I do not see why you want both the woman and the goods," whined the Tia, altering her tone. "Did you not say that you desired to keep nothing which would remind her of her old life? And have not I, by my decoctions and distillations, kept this silly Dolores in a dream like that of a child all these weeks since we got rid of that imp of Satan, Concha Cabezos of Seville?" "You have--you have indeed done well, my Tia," said the man soothingly, "and you will find me by no means ungrateful. But come, let us get this matter settled, and then I must go and look for my drunken good-for-nothing of a brother, who has doubtless stolen the key of the wine-cellar, and is at his old tricks again." "Well, at any rate, I insist upon that string of silver beads," said the old woman, greedily. "I have been thinking of it all these days, and do not forget that it was I who wormed out of the widow the hiding-place where that cunning little Concha had placed Ramon Garcia's strong box." "There--take it, then," said the man impatiently, and a heavy string of beads was slid across the table with a clanking noise. "I had not thought you so good a Christian, Tia!" "Oh, it is not that," chuckled the hag, clutching the necklace fiercely, as a starving dog might fall on a bone, and concealing it instantly beneath her skirts. "But each link hath the stamp upon it--the mint stamp of Seville--and will pass current for a good duro wherever one may chance to be. With such a necklace one can never be in want." "Well," said Luis, "the devil fly away with you and it, Tia! I keep all the ornaments of gold--let that be understood. My wife might, upon an occasion, take a yearning for them, and if I had them not to give her, it might be to the danger of my house and succession. So this gold cross----" ("My mother's!" breathed Ramon hotly in Rollo's ear.) "This knife with the hilt top set with brilliants----" ("My father's--he had it from the great Lor' Wellington for a message he brought to him at Vitoria.") "These trifles--a pair of ear-rings, a ring of pearls, a comb for the hair in gold--all these I reserve for myself." As he spoke, he tossed them, one after the other, into a heavy iron-bound box which, with chains and padlocks displayed, stood open upon the floor.