Two or three days after my arrival, I was again visited by the Gypsy of the withered arm, who I found was generally termed Paco, which is the diminutive of Francisco; he was accompanied by his wife, a rather good-looking young woman with sharp intelligent features, and who appeared in every respect to be what her husband had represented her on the former visit. She was very poorly clad, and notwithstanding the extreme sharpness of the weather, carried no mantle to protect herself from its inclemency,—her raven black hair depended behind as far down as her hips. Another Gypsy came with them, but not the old fellow whom I had before seen. This was a man about forty-five, dressed in a zamarra of sheep-skin, with a high-crowned Andalusian hat; his complexion was dark as pepper, and his eyes were full of sullen fire. In his appearance he exhibited a goodly compound of Gypsy and bandit. _Paco_.—‘Laches chibeses te diñele Undebel (May God grant you good days, brother). This is my wife, and this is my wife’s father.’ _Myself_.—‘I am glad to see them. What are their names?’ _Paco_.—‘Maria and Antonio; their other name is Lopez.’ _Myself_.—‘Have they no Gypsy names?’ _Paco_.—‘They have no other names than these.’ _Myself_.—‘Then in this respect the Gitános of Spain are unlike those of my country. Every family there has two names; one by which they are known to the Busné, and another which they use amongst themselves.’ _Antonio_.—‘Give me your hand, brother! I should have come to see you before, but I have been to Olivenzas in search of a horse. What I have heard of you has filled me with much desire to know you, and I now see that you can tell me many things which I am ignorant of. I am Zíncalo by the four sides—I love our blood, and I hate that of the Busné. Had I my will I would wash my face every day in the blood of the Busné, for the Busné are made only to be robbed and to be slaughtered; but I love the Caloré, and I love to hear of things of the Caloré, especially from those of foreign lands; for the Caloré of foreign lands know more than we of Spain, and more resemble our fathers of old.’ _Myself_.—‘Have you ever met before with Caloré who were not Spaniards?’