"We supped on baccallao, raisins, and plain bread, for the season was Lent. While we were at supper, in the common hall of the posada, I heard the rain pattering on the wooden shutters (there is not a glass window in the house); I heard the thunder grumbling among the hills, and the wind howling as it swept over the fields and vineyards of the Vega. It was a lonely place for a poor boy who had neither father nor mother, señors; but, then, I was not worth killing, though many fears flitted through my mind; for Martin's wife--an ugly and wicked-looking Basque provincial--put some very alarming questions to old Pedro Barradas. She told him that the neighbourhood was infested by bandidos and contrabandistas; and asked if he was a heavy sleeper. "'No,' said Barradas, 'in the war against Joseph Buonaparte I learned the art of sleeping lightly.' "'But what will you do if attacked?' "'That is as may be; but I have only twenty duros, and so shall sleep soundly enough.' "These questions alarmed me very much; visions of murder and slaughter came before me. I crept close to Barradas, who, as I have said, was very old and very frail; but his presence seemed a protection to me for a time. "When the hour for bed arrived, we, who were the only guests, were somewhat imperatively requested to retire to our rooms by the wife of Martin Secco. "Barradas saw, perhaps, his danger, and said that I should sleep in the same room with him. "But Inez Secco told him roughly that he must be content to sleep alone. Then the poor old man was half-led and half-dragged away. As for me, I was but a boy; so they thrust me into a dark closet, where some straw lay on the floor, and, desiring me to sleep there and be thankful, left me. "I lay down on the straw, and finding it wet, arose in horror, fearing that it was blood; and so I remained in the dark, praying to our Lady of the Seven Sorrows, and trembling and listening to the howling of the storm for more than an hour, when all the other sounds in that terrible posada died away. "I was just beginning to dose when a ray of light streamed through the keyhole of my door; I heard it opened, and lo! Martin's wife, Inez Secco, appeared with a long and sharp cuchillo in her hand. A man accompanied her. He was Juan Roa de Antequera! Terror paralysed me; and she believed me to be asleep, for she felt all over my clothes--that is, my poor shirt and breeches-pockets, from which she took two quarter-duros--all I possessed in this world; and then, passing the light thrice across my face, to assure herself that I slept, the hag went away muttering-- "'Caramba! only a half-duro; this little wretch is neither worth lodging nor killing.' "Immediately after this I heard them whispering with Martin Secco; and then they knocked at the door of old Pedro Barradas, who, like a cautious man, had fastened it on the inside. "'Get up,' said they, 'Señor Barradas--get up--you are wanted.'