The household fell in love with the graceful, childish figure, and each outdid the other in serving and spoiling Jeromín, attracted by the charm of his person and the halo of mystery which surrounded him. He, on his side, with the discernment children have of the love, aversion or indifference they inspire, and the degree of liberty they may take, felt himself loved from the first moment, though not for an instant did he feel, as do the spoilt children of to-day, that he was the master of the house. Between the spoiling and flattery of these good people, and the native pride and self-will of the boy, interposed the stately figure of Doña Magdalena, neither severe nor austere, but smiling and lovingly wise, and for this reason she kept him firmly in a secondary position, in absolute obedience to her, according to Luis Quijada's wish. Doña Magdalena usually ate with the household, according to the custom of the time, and Jeromín sat at her table, below the two duennas and above the squires. Every day she heard mass in her oratory with Jeromín at her side, but she did not give him either a cushion or a seat. On Sundays and feast days the noble dame went with all her household to the parish church of St. Peter, and heard high mass and a sermon from her stall in the chancel, as lady of the place and patroness of the church; as page of honour Jeromín stood at her side, between her stall and the bench of the duennas. Similarly in the parlour, Doña Magdalena often sent for him to hear her duennas reading aloud, while she embroidered for the church, or spun for the poor, or sewed, or mended; but she never gave him more than a cushion, and this far from the dais on which she alone was seated. Once a day, however, everything was changed, and she forgot the dignity of the great lady in the tenderness of the mother, coming into his room and waking him, dressing him, and combing his hair, he still half asleep with his pretty face in her lap, and his little hands in hers; and making him kneel at her side, she prayed and taught him to pray before a crucifix that she herself had given him. This crucifix was and is, for it is still preserved in a reliquary at Villagarcia, an object of no great artistic merit, about a palm and a half high without the pedestal. This is its history. Years before the terrible rebellion in the Alpujarras, in one of the warning outbreaks of the Moors, Luis Quijada was skirmishing in the environs of Valencia, before embarking for Tunis. A suspected village was denounced to him, where the Moors were holding secret meetings, and there Quijada went, alone and disguised. He lodged in the house of the informer, and at night saw a bonfire blazing in a Moorish enclosure, which was surrounded by high walls.