the lépero's foot. He appeared sensible to this mark of interest, and muttered, half opening his eyes,
"I believe in God the Father, the Son, and the Holy —Ah! the rascals have taken all my handkerchiefs—Señor Padre, I am a dead man.
"Not yet, my son," said the monk; "but perhaps there only remains for you sufficient time to confess your sins; and it would be best for you to profit by it, that I may open to you the folding doors of heaven. I warn you that I am in a hurry."
"Is the bull-fight not over, then?" said poor Perico, naïvely. "I think," said he, passing his hands over his body, "that I am not so ill as you imagine."
Then, seeing me, Perico shut his eyes, as if he were going to faint, and added, in a very low voice,
"Indeed I am ill, very ill; and if you please to listen to my confession, I will soon finish it."
"Go on, then, my son."
The monk then kneeled down close to the sick man, who, to speak the truth, bore, no trace on his body of a single wound. Taking off his large gray hat, Perico brought his lips near the ear of the monk, and I, not to interrupt the lépero, stepped aside. He began thus:
"I accuse myself first, father, of the blackest in gratitude to this cavalier, in that I took from him so much money—and would have taken more if I could—and I hope he will bear no ill feeling toward me on that account, for at heart I sincerely loved him."
I bowed in token of forgiveness.
"I accuse myself also, father, of having stolen the gold watch of Sayosa, the judge in the criminal court, the last time I appeared before him."
"How was that, my son?"
