“And I have told thee already, Ricote, that I will not,” said Sancho; “let it content thee that by me thou shalt not be betrayed, and go thy way in God’s name and let me go mine; for I know that well-gotten gain may be lost, but ill-gotten gain is lost, itself and its owner likewise.”
“I will not press thee, Sancho,” said Ricote; “but tell me, wert thou in our village when my wife and daughter and brother-in-law left it?”
“I was so,” said Sancho; “and I can tell thee thy daughter left it looking so lovely that all the village turned out to see her, and everybody said she was the fairest creature in the world. She wept as she went, and embraced all her friends and acquaintances and those who came out to see her, and she begged them all to commend her to God and Our Lady his mother, and this in such a touching way that it made me weep myself, though I’m not much given to tears commonly; and, faith, many a one would have liked to hide her, or go out and carry her off on the road; but the fear of going against the king’s command kept them back. The one who showed himself most moved was Don Pedro Gregorio, the rich young heir thou knowest of, and they say he was deep in love with her; and since she left he has not been seen in our village again, and we all suspect he has gone after her to steal her away, but so far nothing has been heard of it.”
“I always had a suspicion that gentleman had a passion for my daughter,” said Ricote; “but as I felt sure of my Ricota’s virtue it gave me no uneasiness to know that he loved her; for thou must have heard it said, Sancho, that the Morisco women seldom or never engage in amours with the old Christians; and my daughter, who I fancy thought more of being a Christian than of lovemaking, would not trouble herself about the attentions of this heir.”