The parents had stayed behind in the house,and they closed the door and went to take revenge on the bawd.But she had heard the noise and knew what the cause of it was,and she went out a back door with the eternal bride-to-be right behind her.So the parents found themselves totally taken in.They came back down to take their revenge out on me,and I was all crippled up,unable to move.If it hadn't been for that,I would have been right behind that fellow who had caused all my damage.The brothers came in sweating and panting,vowing and swearing that since they hadn't caught that wretch,they would kill their sister and the go-between.But when they were told they had gotten away by the back door,there was swearing and cursing everywhere.
One of them said,"If only the Devil himself were here right now with all his hellish throng:I would polish them off like flies.Come on,you devils,come on!But what am I calling you for?I know that where you are,you're so afraid of my temper you wouldn't dare show yourselves here.If I'd seen that coward,I would only have had to breathe hard on him,and he would have blown so far away you'd never hear of him again."
The other one said,"If I had caught up with him,I wouldn't have left a piece of him bigger than his ear.But if he's to be found anywhere in this world--or even if he's not--he won't escape my hands.I'll get him even if he hides in the center of the earth."
They kept on with these boasts and other empty threats,and poor Lazaro was expecting all those heavy clouds to unload on him.But he was more afraid of the ten or twelve little boys there than of those braggers.Everyone,old and young,attacked me in a fury:some kicked me,others hit me with their fists;some pulled my hair,others boxed my ears.My fear hadn't been in vain because the girls stuck long penny needles into me,and that made me cry out at the top of my lungs.The family slaves pinched me until I saw stars.
Some of them said,"Let's kill him."
Others said,"Better yet,let's throw him in the privy."
The clamor was so great it sounded like they were pulverizing chaff,or that they were hammers in a fulling mill that weren't letting up.When they saw that I was out of breath,they stopped beating me,but they didn't stop threatening me.Since the father was more mature,or more rotten,he told them to leave me alone,and he said that if I would tell the truth about who had robbed him of his honor,they wouldn't hurt me any more.I couldn't do what he asked because I didn't know who the fellow was:I had never even seen him before he'd come out of the casket.Since I didn't say anything,they started in again.And there I was groaning,crying over my bad luck,sighing,and cursing my misfortune since it was always finding new ways to persecute me.I was finally able to tell them to stop and I would tell them the facts of the matter.They did,and I told them to the letter what had happened,but they wouldn't believe the truth.
Seeing that the storm wasn't letting up,I decided to outwit them if I could,and so I promised to show them the villain.They stopped hammering on me and offered me wonders.They asked me what his name was and where he lived.I told them I didn't know his name,much less that of the street he lived on,but if they wanted to carry me (it was impossible for me to go on foot because of the way they had beaten me),I would show them his house.They were delighted,and they gave me a little wine,so that I recovered my spirits a bit.Then they gathered all their weapons,and two of them picked me up under the arms like a French lady and carried me through the streets of Madrid.
The people who saw me said,"They're taking that man to jail."And others said,"No,it's to the hospital."
And none of them were right.I was confused and stunned.I didn't know what to do or what to say.Because if I cried for help,they would complain about me to the law,and I was more afraid of that than death.It was impossible for me to run away,not only because of the beating they had given me,but because I was surrounded by the father,sons,and relatives--eight or nine of them had gotten together for the enterprise.They were walking along,like Saint George,armed to the teeth.
We crossed streets and passed by alleys without my knowing where I was or where I was taking them.We reached the Sol Gate,and I saw a gallant young fellow coming up one of the streets that led to it,prancing on tiptoe,his cape under his arm,with a huge glove in one hand and a carnation in the other,swinging his arms like he was the first cousin of the Duke of Infantado.He was moving his hands and swaying back and forth.I recognized him immediately:it was my master,the squire,who had stolen my clothes in Murcia.I don't doubt for a minute but that some saint put him there for me (because there wasn't one left in the litany that I hadn't called on).When I saw opportunity knocking,I grabbed it by the head and decided to kill two birds with one stone--taking vengeance on that bragger and freeing myself from those hangmen.
So I said to them,"Look!That libertine who stole your honor is coming this way,and he's changed his clothes."
They were blind with rage,and without further ado they asked me which one he was.I pointed him out.They fell on him,and grabbing him by the collar,they threw him to the ground and kicked,trampled,and clouted him.One of the boys,a brother of the girl,wanted to run him through with his sword,but his father stopped him and called the law officers over,and they put shackles on the squire.When I saw all the turmoil and everyone busy,I made myself scarce and hid as well as I could.
My good squire had recognized me,and thinking that those were relatives of mine demanding my clothes back,he said,"Let me go,let me go!I'll pay you enough for two suits of clothes!"
But they stopped up his mouth with their fists.Bleeding,his head pounded in,and beaten to a pulp,they took him off to jail while I left Madrid,damning my job and whoever had invented it.
