Her husband was a worthless scoundrel,
who had previously abandoned her and betaken himself to Madrid,
where he had long lived in concubinage with the notorious she-thug
Aurora, at whose instigation he had committed the robbery for which
he was now held in durance. "Should your husband escape from
Malaga, in what direction will he fly?" I demanded.
"To the chim of the Corahai, my son; to the land of the Moors, to
be a soldier of the Moorish king."
"And what will become of yourself?" I inquired; "think you that he
will take you with him?"
"He will leave me on the shore, my son, and as soon as he has
crossed the black pawnee, he will forget me and never think of me
more."
"And knowing his ingratitude, why should you give yourself so much
trouble about him?"
"Am I not his romi, my son, and am I not bound by the law of the
Cales to assist him to the last? Should he return from the land of
the Corahai at the end of a hundred years, and should find me
alive, and should say, I am hungry, little wife, go forth and steal
or tell bahi, I must do it, for he is the rom and I the romi."
On my return to Madrid, I found the despacho still open:
