With this Teresa hurried out of the house with the letters, and with the string of beads round her neck, and went along thrumming the letters as if they were a tambourine, and by chance coming across the curate and Samson Carrasco she began capering and saying, “None of us poor now, faith! We’ve got a little government! Ay, let the finest fine lady tackle me, and I’ll give her a setting down!”

“What’s all this, Teresa Panza,” said they; “what madness is this, and what papers are those?”

“The madness is only this,” said she, “that these are the letters of duchesses and governors, and these I have on my neck are fine coral beads, with ave-marias and paternosters of beaten gold, and I am a governess.”

“God help us,” said the curate, “we don’t understand you, Teresa, or know what you are talking about.”

“There, you may see it yourselves,” said Teresa, and she handed them the letters.