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〃If you notice people's accent so closely； you must be able to guess what I am。〃
〃I think you are from the country of Jesus； two paces out of Paradise。〃
I had learned the metaphor； which stands for Andalusia； from my friend Francisco Sevilla； a well…known /picador/。
〃Pshaw！ The people here say there is no place in Paradise for us！〃
〃Then perhaps you are of Moorish bloodor〃 I stopped； not venturing to add 〃a Jewess。〃
〃Oh come！ You must see I'm a gipsy！ Wouldn't you like me to tell you /la baji/？* Did you never hear tell of Carmencita？ That's who I am！〃
* Your fortune。
I was such a miscreant in those daysnow fifteen years agothat the close proximity of a sorceress did not make me recoil in horror。 〃So be it！〃 I thought。 〃Last week I ate my supper with a highway robber。 To…day I'll go and eat ices with a servant of the devil。 A traveller should see everything。〃 I had yet another motive for prosecuting her acquaintance。 When I left collegeI acknowledge it with shameI had wasted a certain amount of time in studying occult science； and had even attempted； more than once； to exorcise the powers of darkness。 Though I had been cured； long since； of my passion for such investigations； I still felt a certain attraction and curiosity with regard to all superstitions； and I was delighted to have this opportunity of discovering how far the magic art had developed among the gipsies。
Talking as we went； we had reached the /neveria/； and seated ourselves at a little table； lighted by a taper protected by a glass globe。 I then had time to take a leisurely view of my /gitana/； while several worthy individuals； who were eating their ices； stared open…mouthed at beholding me in such gay company。
I very much doubt whether Senorita Carmen was a pure…blooded gipsy。 At all events； she was infinitely prettier than any other woman of her race I have ever seen。 For a women to be beautiful； they say in Spain； she must fulfil thirty /ifs/； or； if it please you better； you must be able to define her appearance by ten adjectives； applicable to three portions of her person。
For instance； three things about her must be black； her eyes； her eyelashes； and her eyebrows。 Three must be dainty； her fingers； her lips； her hair； and so forth。 For the rest of this inventory； see Brantome。 My gipsy girl could lay no claim to so many perfections。 Her skin； though perfectly smooth； was almost of a copper hue。 Her eyes were set obliquely in her head； but they were magnificent and large。 Her lips； a little full； but beautifully shaped； revealed a set of teeth as white as newly skinned almonds。 Her haira trifle coarse； perhapswas black； with blue lights on it like a raven's wing； long and glossy。 Not to weary my readers with too prolix a description； I will merely add； that to every blemish she united some advantage； which was perhaps all the more evident by contrast。 There was something strange and wild about her beauty。 Her face astonished you； at first sight； but nobody could forget it。 Her eyes； especially； had an expression of mingled sensuality and fierceness which I had never seen in any other human glance。 〃Gipsy's eye； wolf's eye！〃 is a Spanish saying which denotes close observation。 If my readers have no time to go to the 〃Jardin des Plantes〃 to study the wolf's expression； they will do well to watch the ordinary cat when it is lying in wait for a sparrow。
It will be understood that I should have looked ridiculous if I had proposed to have my fortune told in a /café/。 I therefore begged the pretty witch's leave to go home with her。 She made no difficulties about consenting； but she wanted to know what o'clock it was again； and requested me to make my repeater strike once more。
〃Is it really gold？〃 she said； gazing at it with rapt attention。
When we started off again； it was quite dark。 Most of the shops were shut； and the streets were almost empty。 We crossed the bridge over the Guadalquivir； and at the far end of the suburb we stopped in front of a house of anything but palatial appearance。 The door was opened by a child； to whom the gipsy spoke a few words in a language unknown to me； which I afterward understood to be /Romany/； or /chipe calli/the gipsy idiom。 The child instantly disappeared； leaving us in sole possession of a tolerably spacious room； furnished with a small table； two stools； and a chest。 I must not forget to mention a jar of water； a pile of oranges； and a bunch of onions。
As soon as we were left alone； the gipsy produced； out of her chest； a pack of cards； bearing signs of constant usage； a magnet； a dried chameleon； and a few other indispensable adjuncts of her art。 Then she bade me cross my left hand with a silver coin； and the magic ceremonies duly began。 It is unnecessary to chronicle her predictions； and as for the style of her performance； it proved her to be no mean sorceress。
Unluckily we were soon disturbed。 The door was suddenly burst open； and a man； shrouded to the eyes in a brown cloak； entered the room； apostrophizing the gipsy in anything but gentle terms。 What he said I could not catch； but the tone of his voice revealed the fact that he was in a very evil temper。 The gipsy betrayed neither surprise nor anger at his advent； but she ran to meet him； and with a most striking volubility； she poured out several sentences in the mysterious language she had already used in my presence。 The word /payllo/； frequently reiterated； was the only one I understood。 I knew that the gipsies use it to describe all men not of their own race。 Concluding myself to be the subject of this discourse； I was prepared for a somewhat delicate explanation。 I had already laid my hand on the leg of one of the stools； and was studying within myself to discover the exact moment at which I had better throw it at his head； when； roughly pushing the gipsy to one side； the man advanced toward me。 Then with a step backward he cried：
〃What； sir！ Is it you？〃
I looked at him in my turn and recognised my friend Don Jose。 At that moment I did feel rather sorry I had saved him from the gallows。
〃What； is it you； my good fellow？〃 I exclaimed； with as easy a smile as I could muster。 〃You have interrupted this young lady just when she was foretelling me most interesting things！〃
〃The same as ever。 There shall be an end to it！〃 he hissed between his teeth； with a savage glance at her。
Meanwhile the /gitana/ was still talking to him in her own tongue。 She became more and more excited。 Her eyes grew fierce and bloodshot； her features contracted； she stamped her foot。 She seemed to me to be earnestly pressing him to do something he was unwilling to do。 What this was I fancied I understood only too well； by the fashion in which she kept drawing her little hand backward and forward under her chin。 I was inclined to think she wanted to have somebody's throat cut； and I had a fair suspicion the throat in question was my own。 To all her torrent of eloquence Don Jose's only reply was two or three shortly spoken words。 At this the gipsy cast a glance of the most utter scorn at him； then； seating herself Turkish…fashion in a corner of the room； she picked out an orange； tore off the skin； and began to eat it。
Don Jose took hold of my arm； opened the door； and led me into the street。 We walked some two hundred paces in the deepest silence。 Then he stretched out his hand。
〃Go straight on；〃 he said； 〃and you'll come to the bridge。〃
That instant he turned his back on me and departed at a great pace。 I took my way back to my inn； rather crestfallen； and considerably out of temper。 The worst of all was that； when I undressed； I discovered my watch was missing。
Various considerations prevented me from going to claim it next day； or requesting the /Corregidor/ to be good enough to have a search made for it。 I finished my work on the Dominican manuscript； and went on to Seville。 After several months spent wandering hither and thither in Andalusia； I wanted to get back to Madrid； and with that object I had to pass through Cordova。 I had no intention of making any stay there； for I had taken a dislike to that fair city； and to the ladies who bathed in the Guadalquivir。 Nevertheless； I had some visits to pay； and certain errands to do； which must detain me several days in the old capital of the Mussulman princes。
The moment I made my appearance in the Dominican convent； one of the monks； who had always shown the most lively interest in my inquiries as to the site of the battlefield of Munda； welcomed me with open arms； exclaiming：
〃Praised be God！ You are welcome！ My dear friend。 We all thought you were dead； and I myself have said many a /pater/ and ave/ （not that I regret them！） for your soul。 Then you weren't murdered； after all？ That you were robbed； we know！〃
〃What do you mean？〃 I asked； rather astonished。
〃Oh； you know！ That splendid repeater you used to strike in the library whenever we said it was time for us to go into church。 Well； it has been found； and you'll get it back。〃
〃Why；〃 I broke in； rather put out of countenance； 〃I lost it〃
〃The rascal's under lock and key； and as he was known to be a man who would shoot any Christian for the sake of a /peseta/； we were most dreadfully afraid he had killed yo