cried Pedrillo; "next time you see the _doctor_, let him know how his
remedy has sped;" and with a comical expression of countenance, half
melancholy, half mirthful, the "trusty and well-beloved cousin"
departed.

Late that night, Perez Donilla entered his own habitation as intoxicated
and belligerent as ever. "Where's my supper?"--"Here," said his wife,
trembling, as she placed before him a few heads of garlic, a piece of
salted trout, a little oil, and a crust of barley bread. "What's all
this, woman?" exclaimed Perez, in a voice of thunder; and with glaring
eyes and demoniacal fury he dashed the fish at her head, and the rest of
his supper upon the floor. "Wretch! how durst _you_ fatten upon olios
and ragouts, and set trash like _this_ before your _husband?_"--"My
dear," replied Juana, meekly, "I am starving; nothing have I tasted
since breakfast."--"Don't lie, you jade! Where's the wild-fowl and the
Bologna sausage sent you by that rogue, Gomez? Stolen were they from
the canon's kitchen, and you know it! And where's the skin of excellent
Calcavella, from the Caballero's overflowing vaults? Give it to me this
_instant_, you hussy, you vixen, you--"--"Indeed, _indeed_," cried the
unfortunate wife in deep anguish, "I take all the saints in heaven to
witness--."--"That, and that, and _that_," interrupted the furious
tyrant, lashing her severely, according to custom, with a thick thong of
leather, and now and then adding a blow with his fist; "let's see if
_that_ will bring me a supper fit for a Christian, and a draught of Don
Miguel's Calcavella!" Juana remembered Pedrillo's advice, and after
roaring out more loudly than usual for aid from St. Jago, St. Francis,
St. Benedict, and St. Nicholas, shrieked at the highest pitch of her
voice, "May the three blessed Maries help me!" No sooner were the words
uttered, than in rushed three apparitions, arrayed in white, but so
enfolded in lined, that it was impossible to determine whether they