dungeon, where, deprived of the light of the sun and of that
which Preciosa's presence diffused, he felt as though he should leave it
only for his grave. Preciosa and her grand-mother were taken to the
corregidor's lady, who at once exclaiming, "Well might they praise her
beauty," embraced her tenderly, and never was tired of looking at her.
She asked the old woman what was the girl's age. "Fifteen, within a
month or two, more or less," was the reply. "That would be the age of my
poor Constantia," observed the lady. "Ah, amigas! how the sight of this
young girl has brought my bereavement back afresh to my mind."

Upon this, Preciosa took hold of the corregidora's bands, kissed them
repeatedly, bathed them with tears, and said, "Senora mia, the gitano
who is in custody is not in fault, for he had provocation. They called
him a thief, and he is none; they gave him a blow on the face, though
his is such a face that you can read in it the goodness of his soul. I
entreat you, senora, to see that justice is done him, and that the senor
corregidor is not too hasty in executing upon him the penalty of the
law. If my beauty has given you any pleasure, preserve it for me by
preserving the life of the prisoner, for with it mine ends too. He is to
be my husband, but just and proper impediments have hitherto prevented
our union. If money would avail to obtain his pardon, all the goods of
our tribe should be sold by auction, and we would give even more than
was asked of us. My lady, if you know what love is, and have felt and
still feel it for your dear husband, have pity on me who love mine
tenderly and honestly."

All the while Preciosa was thus speaking she kept fast hold of the
corregidora's hands, and kept her tearful eyes fixed on her face, whilst
the lady gazed on her with no less wistfulness, and wept as she did.
Just then the corregidor entered, and seeing his wife and Preciosa thus
mingling their tears, he was surprised as much by the scene as by the
gitanilla's beauty. On his asking the cause of her affliction, Preciosa
let go the lady's hands, and threw herself at the corregidor's feet,
crying, "Mercy, mercy, senor! If my husband dies, I die too. He is not
guilty; if he is, let me bear the punishment; or if that cannot be, at
least let the trial be delayed until means be sought which may save him;
for as he did not sin through malice, it may be that heaven in its grace
will send him safety." The corregidor was still more