the head sawed off a statue of the king, and set that up in a niche in the middle of the street in which the murder had taken place.  The king and all the Sevillians thought this a very good joke.  The street took its name from the lamp held by the old woman, the only witness of the incident.  The above is the popular tradition.  Zuniga tells the story somewhat differently.  However that may be, a street called Calle del Candilejo still exists in Seville, and in that street there is a bust which is said to be a portrait of Don Pedro.  This bust, unfortunately, is a modern production.  During the seventeenth century the old one had become very much defaced, and the municipality had it replaced by that now to be seen.

     **** Rom, husband. Romi, wife.

“There I stood in the middle of the room, laden with all her purchases, and not knowing where I was to put them down.  She tumbled them all onto the floor, and threw her arms round my neck, saying: 

“’I pay my debts, I pay my debts!  That’s the law of the Cales.’*

     * Calo, feminine calli, plural cales.  Literally
     “black,” the name the gipsies apply to themselves in their
     own language.

“Ah, sir, that day! that day!  When I think of it I forget what to-morrow must bring me!”

For a moment the bandit held his peace, then, when he had relighted his cigar, he began afresh.

“We spent the whole day together, eating, drinking, and so forth.  When she had stuffed herself with sugar-plums, like any child of six years old, she thrust them by handfuls into the old woman’s water-jar.  ‘That’ll make sherbet for her,’ she said.  She smashed the yemas by throwing them against the walls.  ’They’ll keep the flies from bothering us.’  There was no prank or wild frolic she didn’t indulge in.  I told her I should have liked to see her dance, only there were no castanets to be had.  Instantly she seized the old woman’s only earthenware plate, smashed it up, and there she was dancing the Romalis, and making the bits of broken crockery rattle as well as if they had been ebony and ivory castanets.  That girl was good company, I can tell you!  Evening fell, and I heard the drums beating tattoo.

“‘I must get back to quarters for roll-call,’ I said.

“‘To quarters!’ she answered, with a look of scorn.  ’Are you a negro slave, to let yourself be driven with a ramrod like that!  You are as silly as a canary bird.  Your dress suits your nature.* Pshaw! you’ve no more heart than a chicken.’

* Spanish dragoons wear a yellow uniform.

“I stayed on, making up my mind to the inevitable guard-room.  The next morning the first suggestion of parting came from her.

“‘Hark ye, Joseito,’ she said.  ’Have I paid you?  By our law, I owed you nothing, because you’re a payllo.  But you’re a good-looking fellow, and I took a fancy to you.  Now we’re quits.  Good-day!’