“That won’t do, señora,” said the majordomo; “for I know Pedro Pérez very well, and I know he has no child at all, either son or daughter; and besides, though you say he is your father, you add then that he comes very often to your father’s house.”
“I had already noticed that,” said Sancho.
“I am confused just now, sirs,” said the damsel, “and I don’t know what I am saying; but the truth is that I am the daughter of Diego de la Llana, whom you must all know.”
“Ay, that will do,” said the majordomo; “for I know Diego de la Llana, and know that he is a gentleman of position and a rich man, and that he has a son and a daughter, and that since he was left a widower nobody in all this town can speak of having seen his daughter’s face; for he keeps her so closely shut up that he does not give even the sun a chance of seeing her; and for all that report says she is extremely beautiful.”
“It is true,” said the damsel, “and I am that daughter; whether report lies or not as to my beauty, you, sirs, will have decided by this time, as you have seen me;” and with this she began to weep bitterly.
On seeing this the secretary leant over to the head-carver’s ear, and said to him in a low voice, “Something serious has no doubt happened this poor maiden, that she goes wandering from home in such a dress and at such an hour, and one of her rank too.”
“There can be no doubt about it,” returned the carver, “and moreover her tears confirm your suspicion.” Sancho gave her the best comfort he could, and entreated her to tell them without any fear what had happened her, as they would all earnestly and by every means in their power endeavour to relieve her.