the city--Gomez Arias, chief cook to his reverence the Canon Fernando; Hernan Arias, head groom to Don Miguel de Corcoba, a knight of Calatrava; and Pedro Pedrillo, a young barber-surgeon, in business for himself. Gomez and Hernan, hearing of Juana's misfortunes, said, like affectionate brothers. "God help our poor sister, and may her own relations help her also; for if _they_ do not, nobody else will, and she certainly can't help herself." The like words they repeated to Pedro Pedrillo, until he, being a sharp, handsome young fellow, and particularly fond of showing forth his fine person and finer wit, agreed to visit his cousin, and contrive some plan to extricate her from the cruelty of Perez. Making himself, therefore, as fascinating as possible, he marched directly to the house, or rather cabin, of Juana Donilla, and stood before her, smiling and watching her small, thin fingers plaitting straw for hats, some minutes ere she was aware of his presence. "Pedro!" exclaimed she, with a countenance and voice of pleasure, as she recognised the intruder.--"Ay, _Pedro_ it is, indeed, Juana; but, improved as _I_ am. O, mercy upon me, how black _you_ are looking!"--"_Black_, cousin? Nay, then, I'm sure 'tis not for want of washing. Come, come, Pedro, no jokes, if you please."--"By St. Jago, fair cousin, I'm as far from a joke as I am from a diploma; and my business in this house, as in most houses, is no _jest_, I assure you. In a word, the cries which you utter when suffering from the insane fury of your sottish husband have reached even me, and I'm come to offer you a little advice and assistance. No denial of the fact, Juana; those black bruises avouch it without a tongue."--Juana held down her head, colour mounted into her cheeks, tears suffused her eyes, her bosom heaved convulsively, and for some moments she was silent from confusion, shame, grief, and gratitude. At length, withdrawing her hand from the affectionate grasp of Pedro, and dashing it athwart her eyes, she looked up and said mildly, "Thanks, many thanks, dear cousin, for your kindness. I cannot dissemble with you; what would you have me do? I could not _beat_ him in return; and, oh! save him from the arm of my brothers!"--"What have you always done?"--"Borne his stripes, and called for help upon St. Jago, St. Francis Xavier, St. Benedict, and St. Nicholas!"--"And did you never invoke the three holy Maries?"-- "Never."--"Then that's what you ought to have done," returned Senor Pedrillo, with the utmost gravity. "Now mind me,--call upon _them_ for aid next time your husband maltreats you."--"Alas!" sighed the afflicted wife, "_that_ will most surely be to-night. I've not much faith in your remedy, Pedro; but may be there's no harm in trying it."--"Farewell, then, my poor, pretty, patient, black-bruised cousin," cried Pedrillo; "next time you see the _doctor_, let him know how his remedy has sped;" and with a comical expression of countenance, half