"To begin, in that large cell to the right are four men sleeping in two beds; one of them is an innkeeper, accused of having poisoned a foreigner who died suddenly the other day in his house. They assert that the deceased owed his death to the quality of the wine he partook of; the host maintains, that the quantity, alone, killed him: and the accused will be believed, for the stranger was a German." "Well! who is in the right, the innkeeper or his accusers?" said Don Cleophas. "It is difficult to decide," replied the Devil "The wine was certainly drugged; but, i' faith, the Baron drank so largely, that the judges may for the nonce most conscientiously acquit a tavern-keeper of poisoning his customer."
"His bedfellow is an assassin by profession;--not a soldier, but one of those scoundrels who are called _Valientes_, and who for four or five pistoles obligingly minister to all who will go to so great an expense for the purpose of secretly ridding themselves of some one to whom they owe an obligation. The third prisoner is a dancing-master, who has been teaching one of his female pupils a step not usually practised in genteel society; and the fourth is an unlucky gallant caught by the patrole in the act of entering, by the balcony, the apartment of a lady, whom he was about to console for the absence of her husband. He has only to declare the charitable object of his visit, to withdraw himself from the hands of justice; but he nobly prefers to suffer as a robber, rather than endanger the reputation of his mistress."
"He is a model of discretion, indeed," said the Student; "but it must be allowed that the cavaliers of Spain excel those of all other nations in affairs of gallantry; I would bet anything that a Frenchman, for example, would never permit himself to be hanged under similar circumstances." "And I would back you for that," answered the Devil; "he would rather scale the balcony of a lady, of whose favours he could boast, in broad day-light, for the express purpose of proclaiming her disgrace."
"In a cell near that of the four men I have just spoken of," continued Asmodeus, "is a celebrated witch, who enjoys the reputation of doing all impossible things. By the power of her magic, old dowagers can find, they say, youthful admirers who will love them for their bloom; husbands are rendered faithful to their wives; and coquettes sincerely devoted to the rich fools who keep them: all which is, I need not tell you, absurd enough. Her only secret is in persuading people that she has one, and in making the most of that opinion. The Holy Office is jealous of the poor creature, so have called her to account; and she is likely to be burnt at the first _aúto de fé_."