seventy, screamed out, “Rogue, charlatan, swindler, there is no witch here.  If you mean Camacha, she has paid the penalty of her sin, and is where God only knows; if you mean me, you juggling cheat, I am no witch, and never was one in my life; and if I ever was reputed to be a witch, I may thank false witnesses, and the injustice of the law, and a presumptuous and ignorant judge.  All the world knows the life of penance I lead, not for any acts of witchcraft, which I have never done, but for other great sins which I have committed as a poor sinner.  So get out of the hospital, you rascally sheep-skin thumper, or by all the saints I’ll make you glad to quit it at a run.”  And with that she began to screech at such a rate, and pour such a furious torrent of abuse upon my master, that he was utterly confounded.  In fine, she would not allow the entertainment to proceed on any account.  My master did not care much about the row, as he had his money in his pocket, and he announced that he would give the performance next day in another hospital.  The people went away cursing the old woman, and calling her a witch, and a bearded hag into the bargain.  We remained for all that in the hospital that night, and the old woman meeting me alone in the yard, said, “Is that you, Montiel, my son?  Is that you?” I looked up as she spoke, and gazed steadily at her, seeing which, she came to me with tears in her eyes, threw her arms round my neck, and would have kissed my mouth if I had allowed her; but I was disgusted, and would not endure it.

Scip. You were quite right, for it is no treat, but quite the reverse, to kiss or be kissed by an old woman.

Berg. What I am now going to relate I should have told you at the beginning of my story, as it would have served to diminish the surprise we felt at finding ourselves endowed with speech.  Said the old woman to me, “Follow me, Montiel, my son, that you may know my room; and be sure you come to me to-night, that we may be alone together, for I have many things to tell you of great importance for you to know.”  I drooped my head in token of obedience, which confirmed her in her belief that I was the dog Montiel whom she had been long looking for, as she afterwards told me.  I remained bewildered with surprise, longing for the night to see what might be the meaning of this mystery or prodigy, and as I had heard her called a witch, I expected wonderful things from the interview.  At last the time came, and I entered the room, which was small, and low, and dimly lighted by an earthenware lamp.  The old woman trimmed it, sat down on a chest, drew me to her, and without speaking a word, fell to embracing me, and I to taking care that she did not kiss me.