Berg. My master hawked at higher game.  He set himself up for a man of valour, piqued himself on making famous captures, and sustained his reputation for courage without risk to his person, but at the cost of his purse.  One day at the Puerta de Xeres he fell in, single-handed, with six famous bravoes, whilst I could not render him any assistance, having a muzzle on my mouth, which he made me wear by day and took off at night.  I was amazed at his intrepidity and headlong valour.  He dashed in and out between the six swords of the ruffians, and made as light of them as if they were so many osier wands.  It was wonderful to behold the agility with which he assaulted, his thrusts and parries, and with what judgment and quickness of eye he prevented his enemies from attacking him from behind.  In short, in my opinion and that of all the spectators of the fight, he was a very Rhodomont, having fought his men all the way from the Puerta de Xeres to the statues of the college of Maese Rodrigo, a good hundred paces and more.  Having put them to flight, he returned to collect the trophies of the battle, consisting of three sheaths, and these he carried to the corregidor, who was then, if I mistake not, the licentiate Sarmiento de Valladares, renowned for the destruction of the Sauceda.[61] As my master walked through the streets, people pointed to him and said, “There goes the valiant man who ventured, singly, to encounter the flower of the bravoes of Andalusia.”

[61] An old promenade of the city.

He spent the remainder of the day in walking about the city, to let himself be seen, and at night we went to the suburb of Triana, to a street near the powder-mill, where my master, looking about to see if any one observed him, entered a house, myself following him, and in the court-yard we found the six rogues he had fought with, all untrussed, and without cloaks or swords.  One fellow, who appeared to be the landlord, had a big jar of wine in one hand and a great tavern goblet in the other, and, filling a sparkling bumper, he drank to all the company.  No sooner had they set eyes on my master than they all ran to him with open arms.  They all drank his health, and he returned the compliment in every instance, and would have done it in as many more had there been occasion—­so affable he was and so averse to disoblige any one for trifles.  Were I to recount all that took place there—­the supper that was served up, the fights and the robberies they related, the ladies of their acquaintance whom they praised or disparaged, the encomiums they bestowed on each other, the absent bravoes whom they named, the clever tricks they played, jumping up from supper to exhibit their sleight of hand, the picked words they used, and, finally, the figure of the host, whom all respected as their lord and father,—­were I to attempt this, I should entangle myself in a maze, from which I could never extricate myself.  I ascertained that the master of the house, whose name was Monipodio,