Aminta Deceived and Honor's Revenge

Captain don Pedro (whose last name and lineage I do not mention out of respect to the family) was a native of the city of Victoria, one of the most important cities of Vizcaya because of its amenity, beauty, and nobility. From his earliest years, he had a leaning toward the military, an exercise proper to the nobility. He spent, if you can call it "spending," the flower of his youth serving his king in the wars with such valor and success that he attained high responsibilities from the prudent and most Catholic Philip II. His valiant service earned its proper reward when the Christian King Philip honored him by awarding him the habit of the Order of Santiago and a stipend of six thousand ducats which came with honor of the habit.

Segovia is a city as splendid in its architecture as in the greatness of its nobility, and rich in merchants who, through their business, spread its good name even to the most remote provinces of Italy. In this illustrious Castilian city, don Pedro married a lady his equal in birth and in wealth. From this marriage, he had only one son who inherited his father's brave and noble ideals. When the lad reached the age of discretion, in order to imitate his father and equal his deeds, he decided to employ his youth in proving his valor and accomplishing feats even in excess of his father's. And so, bearing the flag his father's courage had earned and with his father's blessing, he went to Italy to serve his king with the duke of Savoy in the famous Italian campaign.

Captain don Pedro had a brother who, because he was the elder, had inherited the family estate, which was not among the smallest in his land of Vizcaya. He had a beautiful daughter, the most beautiful in the whole province, who would inherit and become mistress of all his possessions. Aminta was between twelve and fourteen when death, cruel collector of lives, came knocking at her father's door. The Christian gentleman regretted leaving his beautiful daughter with no other help but that from heaven above even more than having to depart this world. Although his daughter had sufficient wealth to live comfortably and to marry nobly, it sorely troubled the gentleman's heart to leave her without a mother to guide and teach her in spite of his faith in his daughter's virtue.

Recognizing that the end of his life was near, he made his will and left his daughter mistress of all he possessed. He named his brother executor of his will. In a letter written just before his death, he begged his brother, don Pedro, to take charge of the beautiful Aminta and urged him insistently to marry her to someone worthy of her beauty and discretion—which he considered of greater value than her wealth, and rightly so, because Aminta was the epitome of all the gifts a lavish Nature could bestow. After the gentleman had made these arrangements, he went to his final sleep, surrendering his soul to his Creator and his body to the earth.

The captain received his elder brother's letter and responded to its tender news with tears. He decided it would be best for his niece to join his family so she could benefit from his wife's guidance and upbringing. The two agreed that she should marry their son, as it seemed to them, naturally, that they could find no better match. The captain set out to get her and soon arrived in Vizcaya. He spent several days putting the estate in order and arranging her affairs, naming a loyal administrator to take care of everything. Together they returned to Segovia.

Although too shrouded in mourning to be the sun, the beautiful Aminta entered Segovia to the marvel and wonderment of the whole city. She inspired such envy in the ladies and desire in the gallant youths that within a few days the city was resounding with her fame. The man who had not seen her considered himself unlucky. Each praised in her a virtue that he most prized: some her beauty, others her discretion, this one her wealth, that one her modesty. In sum, everybody called her the miracle of the age and the eighth wonder of modern times.

Of course there were considerable bold eyes and covetous desires, attracted by her charms and honest chastity, who hoped through marriage to become masters of such a jewel. Even after her uncle shut the door on all her potential suitors by announcing that Aminta was engaged to become his son's wife, a few, or maybe even a lot, hoped to win the lady's chaste heart through love. Aminta, happy with her uncle's plan to marry her so well, averted her eyes from all suitors and with pleasure awaited the arrival of her cousin and betrothed who was on his way home. Because she was a young girl, she knew nothing of love; indeed Aminta had no desire but to follow the will and pleasure of her aunt and uncle and thought there could be no pleasure except in the sight of her betrothed. While waiting for him to return home, Aminta led a delightful life, carefree and happy.

At her aunt's side, she so enjoyed the pleasures of the city and the fetes that, within a few months, she forgot her sorrow over her father's death. Her poor lovelorn admirers, denied any hope of ever possessing her, were overwhelmed by amorous desire and regret. They saw in her eyes the glance of the mythical basilisk that struck the beholder dead, leaving him no hope of surviving. Even knowing there was no hope at all, they didn't lessen or desist from their amorous courtship. In her street the music was continuous, the promenading constant, and the gallants without number. At nightfall her street resembled the mountains of Arcadia or the Jungle of Love. Over here you could hear sighing and over there music. Aminta, however, never listened and, if she heard, she laughed and made fun of it all.

But no one should trust in illusory power or freedom, for Love delights more in hunting a free will than in pleasing a captive one. The free man is always captive, the healthy man sick, the valiant vanquished, because Love usually begins in jest and ends in earnest. Let Aminta's eyes sleep relaxed and free. Before long she will learn, at the expense of many tears, how true my philosophy is.

It so happened, then, that one day a gentleman, whom I shall call don Jacinto, came to Segovia on important business. He was young, dashing, and more inclined to pleasure than to penitence. Indeed from Holy Thursday to Holy Thursday, he never thought of penance, like a man who dwells in the house of pleasure. In order to satisfy his own desires, he kept always by his side a woman freer and looser than any woman should be; if a woman does seek only her own pleasure, she should, at least, seem chaste. This woman always accompanied don Jacinto, and he brought her with him to Segovia as his sister. Because

of this relationship, he had stopped living with his legitimate wife, who was as unfortunate as she was beautiful and as noble and intelligent as she was beautiful. Tired of having to put up with don Jacinto's license, she had gone back home to her parents who lived in Madrid.

Don Jacinto happened to go hear mass at the convent near Aminta's house where she customarily went with her aunt. Her beauty, her dress, and her attendants attracted so much attention that when don Jacinto set eyes on that beautiful sight, an intense emotion touched his very soul. Oh what power beauty has over vicious minds! Don Jacinto began to feel sick from the wound Aminta's beauty had struck in his heart. He informed himself all about her and, upon learning of her nobility, her wealth, and her purity, he considered his desires impossible. She was who she was and his being married complicated everything. His secret love was driving him mad; he felt like a mere ghost, like a man bereft of soul.

His passion so affected him that he ate little and slept less. He lost his health and fell sick from deep melancholy. He refused to be friendly or even talk with his mistress Flora. The mere sight of her became so loathsome to his eyes that he wished he were blind so he wouldn't have to look at her. Flora felt troubled by the sudden change in don Jacinto although, from what she did, you'd never guess it. She kept asking him over and over what was causing his depression but he refused to say. Finally, out of curiosity (I refuse to consider it love), she decided to keep close watch and eavesdrop until she found out. That wasn't hard for her to do. Since Love is blind and works only through the blind, both Love and the blind do things in such a way that they can scarcely be covered up. That's why lovers, themselves unseeing, think that others don't see either.

One day don Jacinto was absorbed in his thoughts of Aminta, and he thought Flora was out, for that was what she'd told him. He didn't love her any more so he didn't pay attention to her the way he used to. In fact, he had told her to go take a walk, to go see the city, because he wanted to be alone so he could give himself over completely to his thoughts of Aminta. Believing he was alone, he took up the lute, which he played well, and sang:

     Dido weeps for the fugitive Aeneas,
for the cruel contempt in his departure,
and, blind with rage, inflamed with wrath,
she tears her face to avenge his scorn.

     She calls out to her undeserving beloved;
her hand grasps the sword's hilt,
with it she cuts the flower of her sad life,
winning the laurels earned by her loyalty.

     Beautiful Elisa Dido, although your sad fate
forced you to give yourself a harsh death,
I would exchange my life for your death;

     because, if Aeneas had not loved you once,
he never could have spurned you;
since he loved you once, what a happy fate!

     A famous deed it was,
a deed by which you made fame envious;
because you were loved once,
do not lament your being scorned.
With your sweet memory
comes no sorrow not leading on to glory.
But, alas, my great loyalty
is repaid only with disdain and contempt;
mine is true sorrow,
while yours is full of glory.
Thankless Aminta, take pity on one who's dying,
on one whose plight is desperate,
without hope of glory or end to all his pain.

Flora, who'd been hiding, emerged, and said:

"No longer, my dear don Jacinto, can you hide from me the cause of your melancholy; you've just declared it in your song. To tell the truth, I've suspected it for days because you've had such extravagant praise for the captain's niece Aminta constantly on your lips. Don't think I'm troubled that you've set your sights on her. I can't consider it an affront for you to love a woman who excels me in every way. Why, instead of anger, I feel pity that your desire is impossible unless, of course, you use deception. If I loved you lightly, this love newly born in you might make me jealous. But even if it were possible for you to possess Aminta, I would not fear that you will forget me; when you see how I seek and procure your pleasure for you, that will make you love me all the more. I've always considered jealousy stupid. The day I enlisted under Love's banner, I took a vow to rise above jealousy so as never to know the horror that people say it is.

"The main obstacle I find to your desire is that Aminta will never surrender except in marriage. Her haughtiness, however, is amusing.

If she were to read your letters and listen to your amorous speeches, who can doubt that she would love you? For women, there's no bond like marriage. Let her see your elegance. Impress yourself on her and you'll see how she falls. Despite the fact that everyone in the city says she's hoping to marry her cousin, a lover of your charms and attractions who's johnny-on-the-spot can accomplish more than a lover who's hoped for but absent. Dress splendidly and send her jewels.

"I, for my part, will lay out my snares and set my traps. Since I pass as your sister, I can become her friend and try to talk with her every time I see her in church. If she listens to me, I'll paint your amorous passion to her in such color that, even though it threatens her honor, she can't fail to fall. Once she loves you, it'll be easy for you, by promising marriage, to enjoy her. If your desire should persist, then take her from her uncle's house to a place where she's not known. If your desire should end as soon as you've enjoyed her, we can go home and she'll never know who the author of her downfall was. She'd never dare mention it to anyone for fear of being defamed and maybe even killed by her uncle. My only reward for doing all this for you is simply the pleasure that you will receive."

While don Jacinto listened to the song of that siren, he hung in suspense. Whether he thought she was doing it from love so as not to see him suffer, or to attain her own selfish desires, his response was to throw his arms around her. He called her his comfort, his solace, the savior of his life. He agreed to do everything just as Flora counseled. Don Jacinto was to begin his deception that very day. Eager, dashing, and very rich, he set out to press his courtship. During the day, he was by Aminta's door; at night he haunted her street. Sometimes he went alone, sometimes he went accompanied by Flora, who dressed as a man when they went to serenade Aminta.

In one of the downstairs apartments in Aminta's house, there lived a woman who wasn't exactly a lady nor was she really a servant. She'd been married to a merchant. She was an exceedingly curious woman, eager to know everything that was going on. She wasn't the kind to tell tales, however, not because she was a saint but because she hid her true nature beneath a veneer of virtue so successfully that the captain never questioned her visiting his house. She quickly noticed the new bird who came to nibble at the bait of Aminta's beauty. One evening when don Jacinto was by her door, she approached him and asked what he was seeking. Everybody in the whole city knew that

Aminta belonged to her cousin, who'd been in Milan and was expected to return home at any moment to marry her.

Don Jacinto had been waiting for just such an occasion. He seized the woman's arm and poured out his love to her, all in accord with the crafty plan he and Flora had devised. He led the woman to believe that he had an income of four thousand ducats. He told her he only wanted her to deliver a letter for him. He promised her impossible things. To back up his words, he placed a purse containing fifty escudos in her hands. Thanks to their miraculous power, doña Elena (that was the good woman's name) softened more than you might expect. She told him to go write the letter and bring it back. She would deliver it to Aminta and get a reply. Don Jacinto returned home and told Flora of his good fortune. He wrote the letter and took it back to where doña Elena was waiting for him. He gave it to her together with a magnificent diamond ring.

"This," he said, "you will give to beautiful Aminta as a gift and token of my love."

Doña Elena promised to do so and said she'd have the reply the next day. Don Jacinto left and immediately she went up to Aminta's room. Normally at night Aminta would be writing to her cousin and fiance. Doña Elena went in and, placing the letter and the ring in Aminta's hand, she said:

"Beautiful Aminta, long may you enjoy your great beauty! Please read me this letter. It's from a lover who's courting me as if I were young and beautiful. He sent it to me with this jewel."

Aminta correctly assumed that the letter and the ring were probably from one of the many suitors who were courting her but, carried away by her curiosity and so as not to appear suspicious, or maybe fate was beginning to pursue her, she acknowledged doña Elena's words with a smile and read the following:

To Aminta from don Jacinto:

When will triumphs, fear is vanquished. Driven by my love and therefore not fearing your anger, sweet mistress mine, I dare to tell you of my love. I do not lie when I say that my love was born, not when I saw your beauty, but when I myself was born, for my heart tells me that heaven made you to be its mistress. Well do I know the impossibility of my suit because you await your fortunate cousin to make him your husband. Nevertheless, I don't want to die without your knowing, at least, that you are the cause of my death. If you are not as cruel as people say, while you wait for the fortunate man who

is to merit you, please give me life, if only by just allowing me to gaze upon you. Accept this ring, not as a token from me, but as a portrait of yourself.

"Who, my friend, is this mortally ill man seeking a cure in such haste?" Aminta asked.

"A man who deserves you," replied doña Elena, "more than the man who is to be your husband, because he's noble, gallant, rich, and intelligent. Your cousin may be of your blood, but don Jacinto is of the very best blood in Spain."

(Oh, greed and a purse full of coins, how quickly you inspire the mind of this woman to say things she doesn't even know!)

"I don't understand, most beautiful Aminta," the deceived and deceitful messenger continued, "how you can fail to appreciate a real offer that's so favorable to you in preference to the unknown. Consider the matter carefully and see that you make no mistake. Now then, what shall I reply to don Jacinto?"

"If it's not enough to tell him that you gave me the letter," Aminta responded somewhat tenderly, "tell him I read it, and that, my friend, seems no small favor to me."

As she said this, she slipped the ring on her finger.

Doña Elena would have liked to find don Jacinto immediately in order to give him the good news and receive her reward. But, since he hadn't anticipated such dispatch, not expecting a reply until the next day, he'd already retired to his lodging.

Can you imagine Aminta's confused thoughts? How many times she reread the letter? The speeches she made to herself? Her tossing and turning? How deeply love struck in her hitherto free and carefree heart? While she knew she was to become her cousin's wife, up until that moment, love had never touched her heart. She spent an exceedingly restless night waiting for day to dawn.

As soon as the sky began to lighten, she dressed, and perhaps she adorned herself with more than customary care and elegance in the hope of seeing the cause of her unrest. Now that she wanted to see him, she wasn't far from loving, not far at all! She was caught in the trap Love had set in doña Elena's words. Aminta listened and Love's cruelty brought her to the brink and into the snare she fell. (Poor girl, if only you knew what you were getting into!)

It was Sunday. When it came time for Aminta to leave the house with her aunt and the maids to go to mass, she found doña Elena

talking with don Jacinto in the front entry. At the sight of the two of them and from their actions, she recognized him, as if her heart hadn't instantly told her who he was. If any part of her had remained free from the letter's message, she now gave herself entirely to his presence with clear signs of her surrender. Although don Jacinto was thirty, he was so handsome, elegant, and dashing that, if you didn't know he was married, his grace would charm anyone who looked at him. Being sharp, he recognized in the lady's face certain indications of love and began to promise himself success. As Aminta moved from the place where she first saw him until she got to the coach, her face turned a thousand colors and her eyes darted in a thousand directions to escape the boldness of his glance, especially when she heard doña Elena say:

"Go with God, don Jacinto, for my mission has progressed so well that it won't be long before it's accomplished."

At this moment, the beautiful Aminta tripped and fell almost at her suitor's feet as he was taking leave of the clever matchmaker. He planned to make his love known to its source any way he could. In this surprising situation, it behooved him to show proper courtesy, so he extended his hand to the beautiful Aminta and whispered:

"I want to be your husband, if Love and Fortune are on my side."

The lady responded more favorably than with words by extending her ungloved hand bearing the rich diamond. This sufficed for the gallant to feel more than optimistic.

Aminta's aunt thanked don Jacinto for helping her niece to her feet. To appear most courteous, he took down the step from the coach and helped his bright sun settle in among the other clouds of silk. He felt happier than he'd ever felt in his life.

Instantly he went to tell Flora his good fortune and to inform her that Aminta had gone to church. Flora took her shawl and accompanied her "brother" to the same church. She made a grand entrance and went to sit next to the beautiful but already deceived Aminta. Flora turned to don Jacinto, who was right beside her, and said:

"Wait, brother, let's sit here. You know my tastes are more those of a gallant than of a lady, and wherever I see a lady, particularly one as beautiful as this lady, I can't take my eyes from her beauty and my heart grows tender."

It wouldn't have been surprising for Aminta to thank Flora as a reward for learning that she was don Jacinto's sister. When she saw

him enter the church with another woman, she had felt half dead; jealousy tore wide the wound and opened up love's door. Instead, Aminta said to Flora:

"With your great beauty, which certainly should cause envy rather than suffer it, I don't know why you seek any other. If you take a mirror in your hands and look at yourself, you will satisfy all your desire. Your beauty deserves more to be loved than to love. But I shall now have higher regard for myself; I'm flattered by the favor you've shown me because pure love gives pure fruit. I beg you, please tell me what it is in me that most pleases and delights you so that I may esteem it more and prize it in myself."

"All of you," Flora replied. "You are so splendid that I believe I'm not deceived in thinking that you must be the beautiful and discreet Aminta, whose elegance and beauty are the basilisk of the whole city."

"Aminta I am," the lady replied. "As for the rest, my lady, you can judge with what little reason they attribute this fame to me."

With great skill, the crafty Flora gradually placed bonds on the innocent Aminta to bring about her total downfall. Step by step, Flora led her to believe everything she wanted her to believe. She told Aminta how her brother don Jacinto had came from Valladolid, where he had a house and large estates, to verify the truth of her beauty, which fame had spread everywhere. If he found her as she'd been described, he hoped to make her his mistress. Don Jacinto had learned of her uncle's plans for her marriage, however, and hadn't dared approach her.

Flora extolled his love, his good blood, his wealth. Upon his marriage, he was sure to be awarded an order of nobility. Flora had asked him to bring her along so she could help him make Aminta's acquaintance and in case there were obstacles to the courtship. In sum, Flora painted Aminta's lover as so rich, so noble, and so in love that, to cap the climax, she thought if her brother didn't succeed in making Aminta his wife, he would surely die. Flora disguised her lies with such color of truth that it was no wonder Aminta believed every word, particularly when Love had already disposed her to surrender. Flora finished her speech begging Aminta to take pity on her brother. Now was the time for Aminta to act, before her cousin returned; otherwise, everything might have a disastrous end.

"Oh, my friend!" Aminta exclaimed. "How can it not end disastrously? For even if I wanted to satisfy your brother and make myself happy by marrying him, my uncle would never consent, as he intends

me for his son. But I cannot deny that, ever since last night when I read your brother's letter and received this diamond, I've not been able to bring my thoughts back down to earth, that would be denying power to Love and betraying the loyalty I've sworn. If ever I had any desire to see my cousin, it has turned into a wish for his death or, at least, for his absence until my salvation comes or until the end of my days. Now I regret my disdain for all those who have loved me. Only for myself I feel no pity. I'm beyond caring about my reputation and my honor. That's the effect the sight of your brother has had on me. Now that I've declared my love, tell me what I should do. It's impossible for me to resist loving him. Any remedy is also impossible. My concern is to weigh how much I can afford to lose through my daring while rationally I'm afraid of what may happen."

That's all Flora wanted to hear, and she replied:

"Once you're my brother's wife, you'll no longer belong to your cousin. There's nothing for you to lose. Instead, you'll gain a husband who's his equal in station and wealth. If at first your uncle is angry, later, when he sees how much you gain, he will make peace with you. And, while I don't equal you in beauty, to pacify your cousin, the twenty thousand ducats I'll bring in dowry should make up for this deficiency, and you'll be his sister-in law. If things turn out so badly that none of this works, leave all your inheritance to them. My brother is content with only your person.

"You say that you can arrange nothing in your uncle's house, but there is one way: doña Elena, the woman who gave you the letter. She's a good friend and your family trusts her. You can talk with my brother in her house. That way you can make arrangements for your marriage. After you've gone before the vicar, you can come to our lodgings. By the time your uncle finds out what's been done, you'll already be in your husband's power. When your uncle understands the situation, he'll have no choice but to consider himself fortunate and you lucky."

Aminta was so blind that she acceded to everything, fearful of her cousin's imminent arrival. She told Flora that that afternoon she and her brother should come to doña Elena's room. While her aunt was receiving guests, they could talk at more leisure. Aminta took her leave with signs of eternal friendship and returned home with her accompaniment. Her aunt had noticed Aminta and Flora whispering together, but she assumed they were speaking of girlish things. Trusting in Aminta's modesty, she suspected nothing.

Flora described the arrangement to don Jacinto and, although her elaborate deception caused him some doubt, she received for her efforts a thousand tender and loving favors. After dinner, Flora and don Jacinto went to doña Elena's house together. She already knew of the plan from Aminta. By this time, Aminta loved don Jacinto so truly that she could think of nothing but becoming his wife, even though there might be some worrisome obstacles between the "yes" and the "no." She kept the secret to herself, not mentioning it to her servants. She thought (and rightly) that no one reveals secrets like servants, and the more you caution them to keep something quiet, the more apt they are to make it public.

When the ill-advised lady was sure that her uncle had gone out and her aunt was entertained with her friends, she excused herself and went into the next room. There, she told the maids that, if she were called, she'd be down at doña Elena's. Then she went to meet the authors of her downfall.

Flora and Aminta greeted each other with an embrace, causing proper envy in don Jacinto. He declared his love with all the right words and offered himself to Aminta with extravagant promises made believable by his tears. He increased Aminta's love by regaling her with loving attentions and tenderness, and he gave her his hand in marriage. By virtue of this pledge, he enjoyed some free and delightful favors, gathering flowers and carnations in that garden untouched by human hand which had been reserved for her absent cousin. Flora and doña Elena witnessed these celebrations with a thousand jokes, watching don Jacinto act as bold as Aminta reacted with embarrassment.

It was agreed that the next day, while her aunt and uncle were sleeping their siesta, don Jacinto would bring a litter to take Aminta to the vicar's house. She would disguise her name so that people couldn't talk about her elopement. From the vicar's, she would go to Flora and don Jacinto's lodgings, always in disguise until they got to his city. From there, they would inform her uncle of what had been done. Doña Elena was charged with keeping the secret. This she gladly promised because she feared the captain's anger. It would be easier for him to pardon Aminta once his rage had passed. When the plans were finalized, they said good-bye with a thousand embraces. Don Jacinto and Flora returned to their lodgings, well satisfied and pleased with their success in the negotiations.

Oh, Aminta deceived! Plunged into such great evil, you no longer

heed restraint, casting it aside and placing yourself in great danger! How deceitful you are, don Jacinto, unregenerate cause of the ruination of this poor girl! Your outrage will cost you dear! Oh, false Flora! In you, heaven created the epitome of deceit! May punishment fall upon you, you who act as your lover's matchmaker. Can anyone imagine how evil you are? Terribly evil because, as a woman who's evil, you have the advantage over men. Love excuses don Jacinto, deception excuses the unfortunate Aminta, but for Flora there is no excuse. Don't be amazed at men's deceptions any longer, for Flora surpasses them all in the expression of her love, if indeed it's really love. Whether she loves or not, she has done what you have seen.

The next day, which must have been Tuesday, if that has any significance, finally dawned. Aminta rose with the sun because the momentousness of her plans did not let her rest. She had dreamt about a thousand difficulties and misfortunes in accomplishing those plans. Stumbling here, falling there, hearing voices, all of which predicted disaster, she finally managed to get dressed. It seemed like forever until dinnertime. Totally absorbed in her thoughts and captive to her love, blind and deaf, she gathered up her jewels, wrapped them in a cloth, and placed them in the sleeve of her gown. She tucked her shawl into the other.

Nervously she dined with her aunt and uncle. The moment she knew they'd gone to bed, she went down to the entry. Again she charged doña Elena to keep her secret. Then she put on her shawl and entered the waiting litter. It carried her straight to the vicar's house because the bearers, don Jacinto's servants, had been well instructed in what they were to do. At the vicar's, Aminta met her lover. He could come and go wherever he wanted without being noticed because he wasn't known in the city; besides, it was flooded with merchants and travelers every weekday. The handsome couple appeared together before the vicar. Aminta kept her face covered to avoid being recognized. The moment the lovers clasped hands, a rich emerald ring she was wearing on her finger split in half and a piece flew out and struck don Jacinto right in the face. Although Don Jacinto noticed how much the ill omen upset Aminta, he ignored it.

After the marriage, don Jacinto took Aminta back to his lodgings. Flora received her "sister-in-law" (as we shall call her) with many embraces. She had a carefully planned and delicious supper served. Then, to ensure that Aminta was bound to her misfortune and that don Jacinto, once surfeited, would quickly tire of her, Flora took them to

her own bed. She left them there and retired to another room at the same inn. As a reward for her resourcefulness, she expected to end up with her lover, abandoning Aminta to her misfortune and dishonor. Meanwhile, let Flora look on and suffer, for we can know or say no more about what transpired! Let's leave the three of them, the two traitors and the innocent girl, to pass this night. Each one will have to pay the consequences, for heaven keeps account of everything that happens.

Let's go back to Aminta's house where, by this time, everything was confusion, tears, threats, but in vain. Her uncle acted like a man deranged. When at last he realized that she was not going to appear and that no one had seen her leave, he began to make surreptitious inquiries to avoid making his dishonor public. Every effort was fruitless. Only doña Elena knew, and she said not a word, so he found out nothing. In the end, his wife's weeping and the maids' wailing caused the event to become public knowledge throughout the city. As a result, the police opened an equally fruitless investigation. The vicar reported that at two that afternoon he had married a lady and a gentleman. He didn't know who they were but he did suspect that the lady might have been Aminta. This news merely proved to everybody how much they didn't know.

The next day this information reached don Jacinto. Now that the flame of his passion had been assuaged, he began to consider the danger he was in and the punishment he faced. He feared that doña Elena, if she were pressed, would tell the whole story and reveal where he was lodging, which would greatly imperil his life and his reputation. That night he went to the window grating of doña Elena's apartment which opened onto the street. He knocked. While he talked with her and told her about the wedding, he pointed a pistol at her heart and fired. She gave up the ghost instantly, without time to confess her sins or call on God. She received a well-deserved reward for the evil she had done.

It's said that error follows upon error and one evil upon another. Don Jacinto's evil was so monstrous that his fear of the consequences increased. He realized that if the police searched the inns it would mean certain disaster for the sad Aminta to be found in his room. He felt sure that doña Elena's death would bring about such a search. Taking counsel from Aminta's fear, which was worrying her almost to death, from Flora's resourcefulness, and mostly from his own hindsight, the three decided that, while don Jacinto made arrangements

for their departure, Aminta should stay at the house of an acquaintance of don Jacinto's, a noblewoman who lived on the outskirts of the city. He managed to convince the sorrowing Aminta that she would be better off there in case she were found and if so, they would announce their marriage publicly. If there were no search for her, he could easily arrange their journey to Valladolid and, once there, everything would work out the way they wanted. Aminta agreed to the whole idea.

To finish off his deception, don Jacinto went to the house of the woman who was a distant relative of his. She was a widow who had only one son to inherit her great wealth. His name was don Martin and he was one of the most gallant young men of his time. Don Jacinto told this lady that he had important business in Valladolid but would soon return. In the meantime, would she please allow a lady worthy of all consideration to stay in her company. Doña Luisa, for this was the lady's name, knew all about don Jacinto's peccadillos from the time she had lived in his province. She assumed that this was one of his many lady friends but, desiring to please him, she agreed to do what he asked.

He brought Aminta to doña Luisa's house that same night. Aminta was so upset and confused that don Jacinto was glad to be free of that burden. She brought along her own jewels as well as the ones her perfidious husband had given her. He immediately returned to his inn and, without wasting a minute, packed and left for his province in the company of his treacherous mistress Flora and their servants. Their overriding concern was to get home as soon as possible. Aminta stayed in doña Luisa's house using the name doña Victoria because her own name was so well known in Segovia. She was able to hide there very easily because doña Luisa hadn't lived in Segovia long, and she'd never heard a word about Aminta even though her story was now public knowledge in the city.

Doña Luisa's son had gone hunting four days before and hadn't been into the city, so he didn't know anything either. But the moment don Martin returned from hunting, he dressed for the street and went downtown. There he learned what his mother and the others in his house didn't know. After he got back from town, they sat down at the table for supper and his mother sent for her guest. The instant don Martin set eyes upon Aminta, he fell madly in love with her, thinking that he beheld an angel. All the while they dined, don Martin was transported, even as Aminta was oblivious both to this new passion and to her own misfortune. At the table he told his mother all

the news he'd heard in the city: about how, the day before, the most beautiful woman in Castile, don Pedro's niece who was engaged to become the wife of his son who was in Milan, had disappeared from her home. No one had been able to ascertain any cause or motive for her disappearance. As far as her betrothal was concerned, she had accepted it with pleasure. Regarding her good sense and decorum, she was as discreet as she was beautiful. A public notice had been posted decreeing that no one should give her shelter under penalty of death.

"What's most shocking," he added, "is that this morning they found a neighbor, doña Elena, dead of a bullet through her heart. She lived in a downstairs apartment in the same house. Don Pedro and all his servants have been arrested. One of the servants reported that last evening, while looking out of a window, he had seen doña Elena talking with a stranger. Several others repeated that a maid said that her mistress, Aminta (that's the name of the missing lady), used to go often to doña Elena's house, being very careful that no one should know. This raised the suspicion that doña Elena was murdered because of Aminta. That's why the captain and his whole household have been arrested."

When Aminta heard this news, she began to tremble. Then don Martin (changing the subject), asked where their beautiful guest had come from. He wondered if she had descended from heaven. Doña Luisa replied:

"Don Jacinto brought her to stay with us while he does some business in Valladolid. When he finishes his business, he'll come back for her and take her home to his province."

"Is this lady his wife?" asked don Martin.

"God forbid!" doña Luisa exclaimed. "From what I know of her, it would grieve me to see her so ill-served."

"Speaking of wives," Aminta said with troubled voice, "is don Jacinto married, my lady, or betrothed?"

"Don Jacinto!" doña Luisa repeated. "That isn't really the name of the man who brought you here, my child. His real name is don Francisco, and he's married and lives in Madrid."

"Are you sure of that, my lady?" Aminta asked.

"I'm positive," doña Luisa replied. "Five or six years ago when I used to live in his province, where I'd lived ever since I married, I witnessed his marriage to a lady from Madrid. He'd fallen in love with her when he saw her at a cousin's wedding he'd attended with his

parents. Within a year, of course, he no longer lived with his wife. I know his parents and his relatives, and I know that he's as depraved as he is rich."

"Doesn't he have a sister named Flora?" the confused lady asked.

"Ah, my friend!" doña Luisa exclaimed. "How mistaken you are! That woman has been his mistress for a long time now. She's the one who incites him to a thousand evil deeds. If he didn't enjoy the protection of his powerful relatives at court, he would've been executed long ago for the evil example he sets with his openly lascivious behavior, for vice in the nobility is more visible than in other people. Beautiful doña Victoria, please, for your own sake, explain this mystery to me. The tears you fight back are not without cause. Further-more, if don Jacinto told you he's not married, he lied. His wife is named doña Maria. She went back home to her parents because she couldn't tolerate his evil ways."

"My troubles," replied Aminta, "are not such that they can be told without causing scandal. Please permit me to retire now. In time you will learn of greater treachery and deception than history recounts about Odysseus' cousin Sinon."

Doña Luisa could almost guess what must have happened but she had no idea who her guest was. Being prudent, however, she didn't wish to be importunate. She got up, took Aminta by the hand, and led her to her chamber. It was a beautiful room with windows whose balconies opened onto a lovely garden. It was next door to her son's bedroom with a door connecting the two, which she now locked to protect their privacy.

Like his mother, don Martin felt confused. He was so enamored of their guest that already he thought he couldn't live without her. Because she'd left the room in tears, and from her parting words, he suspected some amazing story. Knowing that doña Victoria's room adjoined his, he went to his own room. He noted that the connecting door was locked and understood his mother's precaution. He went out and, from among all the keys that lay on the desk, he selected the one to that door. Then he returned to his room and pretended to get ready for bed. But that's not what he did. Instead, he placed himself in front of the keyhole and tried to overhear what the mistress of his freedom might say. In her ignorance, doña Luisa was giving her guest misdirected comfort. Soon she left Aminta and went off to bed.

Alone in her room and unaware that anyone was listening, the desolate Aminta wept. In a voice neither loud nor soft, she began to pour

forth her sorrows. Just as a fountain cannot spill its crystal drops when a hand covers its jet and restrains it, but spurts them forth violently once the hand is removed, this is what happened with all the words Aminta had been holding back. The moment she was alone, she poured forth her passion.

"Alas, Aminta!" she lamented, as she tore at the threads of her fine hair and gashed her white hands with the pearls of her teeth, drawing tiny red rivulets across her flesh. "How dire is your misfortune! I could become a legend all over the world, an example for all women and maybe even a lesson for them, if they are wise and not foolish as I have been! Alas! Woe is me! What disgrace and scandal I have caused through my folly! Just look at me—three days ago I enjoyed honor, wealth, a life of ease. I was adored by my aunt and uncle and respected by the whole city and today, hear all the gossip, see how the whole city is shocked! Alas, dear uncle! How can I make reparation for the grief and the dishonor you suffer, all because of me? How will you bear it when you learn the extent of my disgrace? Oh, doña Elena, cause of all my trials! I hope heaven punishes your soul as it has your body for ruining me! Oh, cruel Flora, more treacherous and iniquitous than your namesake! No wonder women with your whore's name are despised in Rome! Oh, don Jacinto, how could you have the heart to deceive a woman of my position, heedless of the fact that you would cause not only my death but your own as well. When my uncle finds out what you've done, he will surely track you down, if death doesn't strike him first. If he fails, my cousin and betrothed will, as my blood relative, avenge your offense against me. But how can I wait for that to come to pass and be patient when I have the courage and hands with which to end my life right now? It's preferable for the news of my crime to be broadcast together with the notice of my death. There's no other way: let the one who has lost her honor, lose her life."

As she uttered these words, she drew a knife from its sheath, meaning to slash the arteries in her wrists. She thought there was enough time left before morning for her to bleed to death and thus end all her woes. Don Martin, however, understood her determination and was amazed at her resolve, although, of course, he didn't really understand. Fearing a disastrous mishap, hastily he put the key in the lock, opened the door, and rushed in. The noise, combined with the intensity of her resolve, so upset the beautiful Aminta that she fell into a swoon. Don Martin picked her up in his arms, enjoying a liberty

which, had she been conscious, would have been impossible, because her genuine modesty could never have been vanquished except by such deception as has been described.

With his sun eclipsed in his arms, don Martin felt exceedingly tender. He contemplated her youth, her beauty, and the violent emotions she was experiencing. This fed his love at a time when he had the opportunity to take some loving liberties. Carefully he arranged her tumbled hair and lovingly he dried her tears. In answer to her troubled sighs, he tasted delightful favors, gathering carnations in the garden of her beauty.

After a short while, Aminta came to her senses. Finding herself in don Martin's arms she withdrew from her new lover's possession with righteous anger. As she came to comprehend what her situation was, the strength and force of her grievance turned her love for don Jacinto into a desire for harsh vengeance. She had been deceived; now, suddenly, she was being courted. They say that there is no better bait to catch a woman spurned by an absent lover than tender love in the present, so now perhaps she was not quite as free as before. Recovering herself, she reacted angrily and said:

"Don Martin, what are you doing here? Do you think an unhappy woman requires any witness to her death besides her misfortune? Leave me alone. Go back to your room. With the death of this lone woman, the honor of many men will be restored."

"God forbid, beloved mistress mine," replied don Martin, "unless I accompany you in the act. From the moment I saw you, I have adored you. I have one life, which is yours, and this dagger which will do your will. If you don't want me to pay the ultimate price, then let me be your salve. That would make me happier than if I were master of all of Alexander's empire."

"Little do you know me," Aminta said, "since you state your desire so freely. Do not think, just because I'm in this compromising situation, I cease to be who I am. Although it may seem to you that I have lost my honor because of a traitor's deception, what happened to me could happen to the most reasonable and modest woman. You are not my husband and I will not give in to your desires. I beg you, please return to your room. Don't force me to call out to your mother and alarm the whole household. Don't make me publicize my unhappiness and deliver myself over to the sword of my family, who will find satisfaction for their disgrace only in my death."

Don Martin understood her determination and feared she would

make an outcry. As she rushed toward the door, he stopped her and begged her to listen to him. It wasn't right for her to think he was trying to possess her without becoming her husband and, if she would accept him as such, he would consider himself very fortunate. The lady looked at him and noted the deep emotion with which he said these words. Besides offering to help, he asked her to explain exactly how she had been injured and by whom. For, if she had lost her honor as she said, some man was the cause. She should tell him everything and see how well he would serve her. He didn't expect her to marry him until her honor was fully satisfied, but he most fervently hoped she would marry him. Aminta, while grateful for her new lover's promises, still despaired of any remedy. She replied:

"I, don Martin, am Aminta, the very person who earlier this evening you said was the scandal of the city and disgrace to the captain don Pedro, my poor, injured uncle. I'll explain the reason why I am in your power; then, if you still want to do as you say, I'm willing to grant your wish."

Briefly she told him what is written here. Her story left him more enamored than before and deeply touched at seeing Aminta's innocence deceived. He wanted, even at the cost of his very life, to avenge her, providing that he not lose the beautiful prey he now had in his power. Again don Martin swore to avenge her honor and gave her his hand as husband. She willingly accepted, as she had no other choice.

"But that's not how my vengeance will be done," Aminta said. "I am the one offended, not you, and I alone must avenge my honor. I shall not be satisfied until my own hands restore to me what my folly has lost. While I give you my word to become your wife, you will not obtain your desire until I've killed that traitor. The only thing I ask is for you to take me where he lives, accompanying me to ensure the safety of my person. If you'll go with me, I'll change my dress—it's safer for me to go dressed as a man. Then I shall deceive him the very same way he deceived me. Once this is done, we can go to Madrid and there we can live in safety."

Don Martin agreed to her conditions. That wasn't surprising because he was in love and would have done anything to enjoy such a beautiful woman; he could almost understand don Jacinto's deception. They were agreed: Aminta expected to avenge herself and don Martin expected to be her husband. They planned their departure for the very next day and, with an embrace, he took his leave.

During the day don Martin arranged everything necessary for the journey. At last night came, although it seemed to the new lovers that it came more slowly than usual. After everyone retired and doña Luisa had gone to bed, don Martin entered Aminta's room bringing her clothing suited to her purpose. She donned the clothes and cut her hair to just the right length. She looked so beautiful that, if any part of don Martin's soul had remained untouched by love, he was totally overcome by the sight of her like this. He left his mother a letter in which he asked her to keep their departure a secret until their mission had been accomplished: it was important to his life and to the lady's honor.

They left the house and mounted two worthy mules; don Martin, in his dress, appeared to be a mule driver. They left Segovia and the next day at nightfall they found themselves in Madrid, the famous court city of the Catholic King Philip III. So great was Aminta's desire for revenge that she wouldn't take time to enter the great city and they pressed onward in their journey, which lasted several more days. I will simply say that one Saturday night they arrived in a city without a name, and it's important that it remain nameless. Taking safe lodging, they rested until morning.

Between themselves, they agreed that don Martin should remain in hiding at the inn since he was a native of that region and had friends there. He didn't want to risk being recognized by anybody. Aminta prepared to set out alone to begin her mission. Don Martin again begged her to let him satisfy her injury; she could count on great deeds from his love without having to take the slightest risk herself. But he couldn't convince Aminta. She said that if she was to be his, he must let her be his with honor.

"I am the one," Aminta said, "who, through my folly, lost my honor, and therefore I am the one who must recover it by shedding blood. You know that women, once they take a decision, seldom change their minds. Since this is the way it is, and it is, allow me to do this my own way. If you avenged my offense with your hands, you would think less of me."

She expressed herself so well and he listened so sympathetically that he had to give in, but not without feeling jealous. He said half-jokingly, half-seriously, that she was only using him to see don Jacinto again.

"The outcome will tell," Aminta said. She parted from him with greater emotion than don Martin would have liked. He felt afraid and

the more fear he felt, the more he suffered. Aminta went off to find her enemy, followed and watched by her lover, who loved her more deeply than he willed.

Aminta went to the main church which was nearby. The very moment she entered, before she even had a chance to look around or to say her customary prayer, she saw her feigned don Jacinto and true don Francisco talking with several other gentlemen. She recognized him instantly. You must believe it took all the courage her masculine attire gave her to keep from showing her inner turmoil and weakness. Making an enormous effort, she screwed up her courage and approached them, hoping they would notice her. Don Jacinto asked her if he could do anything for her. When he looked at Aminta, he almost suspected who she was and abruptly his color altered. With as great an effort as her weakness could muster, she asked if there was anyone among their graces who needed a servant.

"Where are you from?" asked don Jacinto, scrutinizing her closely.

"From Valladolid," Aminta said. "I gambled away some of my father's money, and while he's getting over his anger, I've run away. When he misses me, he'll search me out and pardon me."

"You know a lot for such a young boy."

"I know very little, since I am where you see me."

"It seems to me that I've seen you before," don Jacinto replied, "or else you look like a woman I loved for twenty-four hours."

"A lot of love that person owes you," Aminta said. "It wouldn't surprise me if she'd want to get even with you."

"That's a foolish notion. There's no way she could even if she knew who I was. But, since you resemble her so closely, I want you to serve me. That way I can see myself served by the living image of one whom I served. It's a glorious feeling to see someone humbled who once was powerful, even if it's only play-acting."

So shameless was he that he felt pleased by what he had done! The enjoyment of sin is the first step to eternal damnation.

"What's your name?" he asked. "If you're to be my servant, I need to know your name."

"Jacinto," replied Aminta. "And if you take me into your service because I am a living portrait of that woman, I must thank nature who made me in her image because, for my part, I must say that, the moment I saw you, I liked you well."

"Did you come through Segovia?" don Jacinto asked.

"Yes, sir," the lady responded. "I didn't want to stop there, though,

because there was a terrible scandal. Some lady, whose name they said was Aminta, had disappeared. They thought the earth swallowed her because they couldn't find her dead or alive. To make matters worse, a doña Elena, who they thought knew something about the missing lady, was found murdered one morning. A lot of gentlemen are in prison because of those mysteries."

"Don't they know," don Jacinto asked, "whether anyone carried her off?"

"They didn't suspect that," Aminta said. "What they think is that she herself ran away to keep from marrying her cousin with whom the marriage contracts were already drawn up."

"Well, Jacinto, let's go home."

"That's a good idea," Aminta replied. "Let's go wherever you say, and when I know where the house is, I'll go to my lodging for my suitcase with my clean clothing."

Who can doubt that by this time Aminta was ready to collapse? She wasn't stupid, however, so she kept up the pretense and accompanied her old enemy and new master to his house. There he presented the false Flora as her mistress and lady. He told Flora to be kind to their new servant and instructed the feigned Jacinto to serve Flora with great care. Flora looked at "him." She looked at "him" again, feeling increasingly disturbed and so faint she thought she might die. She didn't dare say what she was thinking, although she really believed she was looking at the deceived Aminta in person. She didn't mention this to her lover because she didn't want to remind him of Aminta now that he'd forgotten her so completely.

Aminta settled into her new house and then went back to tell her lover don Martin of her quick good fortune. He felt terrible pangs of jealousy over her position in the house of her first lover. She reassured him with a thousand caresses, promised to hasten his relief, and went back to her new masters.

She served them so delightfully that they were well pleased with "him." "He" revealed "his" many talents, which were: reading, writing, counting, a variety of other things and, best of all, playing music and singing. Neither don Jacinto or Flora could be without "him" for a minute. One day while they were dining, "he" took up the guitar at Flora's command and sang this ballad:

    If you adore your beautiful Celia,
and worship her image,
sacrificing your pleasure

to her beloved beauty;
if her most beautiful eyes,
you regard as suns,
you look at as stars,
you celebrate as heavenly;
if you think her mouth
is a jewel box full of lovely pearls
and her hair pure gold,
beautifully spun in Arabia;
if you know that her hands
are snowy white mountains,
and that her grace, figure, and presence
belong to a second heavenly Venus;
if to her perfect beauty
and celebrated countenance
the beautiful apple were offered
which cost Troy so dear;
and, finally, if all your
sense, power, soul,
memory and will
are captive in her golden threads;
why, ungrateful Jacinto,
cause of my eternal sorrow,
with love false and feigned
did you deceive my innocence?

The deceived don Jacinto hung in suspense. He was not so amazed at the voice, which was very good, but at feeling the sense of the song as if he were actually seeing Aminta herself lamenting. At last he said to "him":

"This lady's plaints are very moving, friend Jacinto."

"That's how I treated her," Aminta replied, "but when she thought she'd caught a husband, I jilted her."

"Then you've been in love?" don Jacinto asked.

"Do I look that foolish?" the lady replied. "Be assured that I've known how to love and how to scorn. I'm also good at feigning passion and disenchanting because I'm more of a man than my beard might indicate. Even though mistress Flora says I look like a woman or a capon, some day I'll be a cock in spite of that knave who won my fortune and put me where I am today. But, since you like to hear the plaints of this woman, listen to these madrigals that treat the same subject:

     It was when Phoebus wanted to offer
his rays to Diana

and she, beautiful and proud,
was returning from visiting India.
So that the beloved shepherd
should be consoled in their separation,
Matilda, eagerly went out
to seek her absent Jacinto.
With hastening step, she treads
the blossoms of the flowery meadow,
her face troubled because already
her heart warns her of her fate.
She comes to a beautiful valley,
watered by a gentle crystalline brook
where, taking his pleasure,
she sees Jacinto entertained with Isabella.
She slows her pace
and hears Jacinto saying:
"Maiden, I am burning up,
let your favor ease my sorrow."
Her hands he took in his
and, sighing tenderly, he kissed them.
Isabella said to him:
"What would Matilda say if she saw you now?"
"Hush, divine Isabella, don't say
such nonsense, and heed my passion;
you alone are worthy
of conquering proud hearts;
why, if Apollo should see you,
he would cease pursuing fugitive Daphne,
and for your beauty you would win
the apple from Venus, the divine goddess.
You would be for Jupiter
the Europa he conquered as a bull;
if you had been born in his time,
transformed into a swan he would enjoy you,
and as the golden rain he would descend
from his eternal chorus to visit you;
like Calixtus you would earn
a celestial seat among the spheres.
He would not enjoy Egina
as a shepherd in the lovely meadow
and much less Persephone,
because, enamored of your beauty,
he would devote himself entirely to you
and scorn all others in the world.
Even Juno would not take offense
to see her husband enjoy your sweet beauty."
This he said, and that's all it took,

for Isabella, now entirely vanquished,
has wrapped her arms
around his neck and measured
her mouth close to his.
Matilda went mad with jealousy
and, overcome by rage, she burst forth
like a doe wounded by the spear.
"Faithless, bold,
ungrateful, and most false of men,
here shall I end your life!"
she said as, with firm step,
she fell upon the lovers.
Then Morpheus fled her lovely eyes
weeping rivers of tears;
she believed that what she dreamt was true.
If this story had happened
while she was awake as it did while she slept,
she would have killed them with her tender hands.
Although he's only a child, Cupid,
when he's jealous, will do anything.

They praised the feigned Jacinto's song with boundless enthusiasm and showed their appreciation of "his" talents. Don Jacinto rewarded "him" with a suit and Flora with a ring, which Aminta gladly accepted.

With regard to her vengeance, Aminta was getting past the jesting stage. She did not fail to visit don Martin regularly and report to him on her progress. He kept begging her to hurry up or else let him do it. He could no longer stand staying shut indoors, nor could he bear the thought of her living in the house of the man who had been her first lover. It made Aminta angry that he was so suspicious. She told him that if he was losing faith in her he could go home. He owed her nothing and she owed him nothing. It had been only a gentlemanly act to accompany her.

She left without making up. He fell into a most impassioned state, more because of her anger than because of his jealousy, which was consuming. Aminta got home a little late and found her master and mistress already dining. They scolded her for her tardiness. Later on, don Martin came to the door and made the signal he'd used on other nights. Aminta went out and, after much arguing and pleading, they made up. He returned to his inn and she went back inside to retire.

Aminta stayed in her master's house one month. In the meantime, don Martin had written to a close and loyal friend of his in Segovia to find out what had transpired. The friend wrote him all the news

from home and, after mentioning don Martin's mother's sorrow, the letter went on to tell how captain don Pedro had gotten out of jail on bond. As soon as he got home, he threw himself on his bed, saying "My honor is ruined," and died. His son don Luis had come home from Italy. He bailed the servants out of prison and was making an extensive search to learn the whereabouts of his cousin and fiancée, of whom there had been no news whatsoever.

The notice of her uncle's death and the vengeance her cousin don Luis's wrath promised redoubled Aminta's fury and wrath. It further enraged her to see don Jacinto enjoying Flora so freely, both of them the cause of all her misfortune. She didn't feel jealous but profoundly aggrieved. If you want to know whether you really loved, even though now you scorn, look at your lover in another's arms. Realizing that the time had come for deeds and not words, Aminta notified her lover don Martin that it would be that night. He awaited the outcome, knowing what he was supposed to do.

Aminta waited for just the right moment. When the city fell silent and everyone was sound asleep, she crept into her enemies' bedroom. This wasn't the first time; she had to go in every night to get her master's clothes for cleaning. Aminta drew her dagger. Two or three times she plunged it into the treacherous don Jacinto's heart, so sharply that his cry and his giving up the ghost were simultaneous. At the sound, Flora awoke and was about to scream but Aminta didn't give her time. She stabbed her in the throat, uttering these words:

"Traitor! Aminta punishes you and avenges her dishonor!"

She stabbed Flora in the breast three of four more times, sending her soul to keep her lover's company. Aminta closed the door to the room, took her cape and her suitcase and, using a new key she'd had made by pretending to lose the other one, she locked the front door and left. She went to don Martin's lodgings. When he heard how she had done them in, he said they should get on the road immediately.

Taking their clothing and the mules, they departed and traveled with haste to the first inn, where they stopped to rest. There Aminta dressed as a lady in an elegant gown she'd brought. Don Martin donned gentlemen's dress and hid the old clothes where they'd never be found. Two days they rested there. They confirmed the vows they'd made to each other and, with the vows, they confirmed their love. Aminta could no longer refuse don Martin, her true husband, any favor he might ask. Then don Martin hired a maid and two servants, rented a proper carriage, and they set out for Madrid.

By the morning after that terrible night, the sinful wretches were roasting in hell. Their evil lives had merited that death and their violent deaths were a fitting end to their lives. That morning, when the other servants noticed that the servant Jacinto didn't appear, and their master and Flora didn't get up, they went into the bedroom. As they beheld that awful scene, they screamed. The maids shrieked and soon everyone in the city joined in the clamor. The police took everyone's confession. Since the only clue was Jacinto's absence, and the fact that "he" had taken "his" suitcase, they took the other servants prisoner. The police searched every inn in the city and found the one where the authors of the crime had stayed, but they couldn't discover their names or where they were from. The only thing they found out was that the two had departed in the middle of the night. Because they'd said they were brothers, they often locked themselves in their room to talk.

With these slender clues, the mayor and several law officers set out after them. They didn't suspect a thing when they met up with don Martin and his lady, who were on their way to Madrid. They only saw two people traveling with composure and authority. Besides, they recognized don Martin as a noble from that city and knew that he now lived in Segovia. Don Martin informed them that he was traveling from a nearby town with the lady who was to become his wife, and they told him who they were looking for and why. The two acted astonished at the story. It's not surprising that the law officers didn't recognize the authors of the crime because, if you were looking for a muleteer and a young page, and you met an important gentleman and a beautiful lady, would you be suspicious?

The group had met on the road, and as they both carried provisions, don Martin and the mayor dined together. Not finding a trace of the fugitives he was seeking, the mayor decided to turn back to town while Aminta and don Martin went on their way. The mayor realized that the servants weren't guilty of the murders so they were set free. The estate of don Francisco (alias don Jacinto) was confiscated and part was given to the king, the rest went to his widow.

Don Martin and his bride arrived in Madrid. They arranged for a house and furnishings, took out a marriage license, and were wed. They had the banns published afterwards. As soon as they were settled, don Martin sent for his mother. She brought her entire household and all her wealth to Madrid. She felt happy to have such a daughter-

in-law and, knowing who Aminta really was, she considered herself very fortunate.

The three still live in Madrid today. Aminta has kept the name doña Victoria. She is very happy with her adoring husband, don Martin. The only thing lacking for her to be completely happy is children. Her cousin don Luis is still alive, but out of respect for him, doña Victoria has not claimed the vast fortune left her by her father. Don Martin has not wanted to deal with this matter either. The secret of the story remains with these three, and if Aminta herself had not told it to me so it could be written with false names, no one would ever know. Now you all can see the deceived Aminta's great courage and how she avenged her own honor in this second enchantment.

The moment the lovely and discreet Matilda ended her enchantment, narrated with such wit and charm that she'd held her listeners totally absorbed and in suspense throughout, don Diego, Lysis's new suitor, signaled to the musicians. He instructed his two servants, who were both excellent dancers, to interrupt the applause for the lovely Matilda. Don Diego suggested that they get on with the entertainment because he felt that applause could not do her story justice, so it was better to omit it. The other ladies and gentlemen were of the same mind, so they all turned to watch the graceful turns and lively pirouettes being executed by don Diego's servants.

After the dance was over, the guests began a sumptuous meal that Lysis had arranged for her guests. As was customary at such evening affairs, a variety of sweet salads garnished with delightful fruits and conserves were served at the table. Each dish attested to their hostess's exquisite taste.

With prickly charm, Lysis darted a thousand scornful glances toward don Juan all the while she kept smiling favorably upon don Diego. This really burned don Juan up. Even though he was enamored of Lisarda, still he wanted to be loved by Lysis as well. To spite Lysis, he outdid himself in attention to Lisarda, just as Lysis was flirting with don Diego in order to wound don Juan.

When matins rang out at the Church of the Carmen, all the ladies and gentlemen decided to go hear midnight mass so they could sleep carefree and rise refreshed for the second night's entertainment. They said good-night to Lysis and her mother, who didn't want to go along.

They set out on their pious mission, the gentlemen accompanying the ladies. As he left, don Diego thanked Lysis for her great favor to him and offered to be her slave. This is how the first night's party came to an end.