when she felt herself at the point of death, she sent for
her and told her how she had turned her sons into dogs on account of a
certain grudge she bore her, but that she need not distress herself, for
they would return to their natural forms when it was least expected; but
this would not happen 'until they shall see the exalted quickly brought
low, and the lowly exalted by an arm that is mighty to do it.'

"Your mother wrote down this prophecy, and deeply engraved it in her
memory, and so did I, that I might impart it to one of you if ever the
opportunity should present itself. And in hopes to recognise you, I have
made it a practice to call every dog of your colour by your mother's
name, to see if any of them would answer to one so unlike those usually
given to dogs; and, this evening, when I saw you do so many things, and
they called you the wise dog, and also when you looked up at me upon my
calling to you in the yard, I believed that you were really the son of
Montiela. It is with extreme pleasure I acquaint you with the history
of your birth, and the manner in which you are to recover your original
form. I wish it was as easy as it was for the golden ass of Apuleius,
who had only to eat a rose for his restoration; but yours depends upon
the actions of others, and not upon your own efforts. What you have to
do meanwhile, my son, is to commend yourself heartily to God, and hope
for the speedy and prosperous fulfilment of the prophecy; for since it
was pronounced by Camacha it will be accomplished without any doubt, and
you and your brother, if he is alive, will see yourselves as you would
wish to be. All that grieves me is that I am so near my end, that I can
have no hope of witnessing the joyful event.

"I have often longed to ask my goat how matters would turn out with you
at last; but I had not the courage to do so, for he never gives a
straightforward answer, but as crooked and perplexing as possible. That
is always the way with our lord and master; there is no use in asking
him anything, for with one truth he mingles a thousand lies, and from
what I have noted of his replies it appears that he knows nothing for
certain of the future, but only by way of conjecture. At the same time
he so be-fools us that, in spite of a thousand treacherous tricks he
plays us, we cannot shake off his influence. We go to see him a long way
from here in a great field, where we meet a multitude of warlocks and
witches, and are feas