“There are things you couldn’t believe if you hadn’t seen them with your own eyes. Don Leonardo Cifuentes, one of Ciudad Real’s highest and mightiest, a gentleman so popular, so well groomed, all he has to do is lift a finger and the vainest beauties come running. This man has a taste for Indian girls. Well, they do say pleasure comes with variety. People who eat pheasant every day are probably craving a plate of beans. But an Indian. . . . It’s like rooting around in a pig pen, isn’t that so, compadre? I do my best to find girls with a little bit of shine to them, girls that are clean, at least. Anyway, don’t think I’ve gotten so hardhearted that I do these things without a second thought. In my day, I had high hopes of running around town like some women I know who have more money than they need. But no, there I was, inside my house like a queen, and that’s why I had quite a few friends who stood up for me. People could talk all they wanted. It was my good luck that offended them. As far as honor goes, no one has ever been more honorable than me. I’m a mirror for the rich ladies to recognize themselves in.

“Remember how much there was of everything in my house? They always gave me anything I asked for! Nobody who came to see me in those days ever bothered me about anything. After that it was like the cricket in the story. Little by little I was left on my own, with no one to help me out or tell me what to do. But it’s sinful to complain. I have a lot to give thanks for, first of all to the Santísima Virgen de la Merced, my patron saint, and then to Leonardo. I remember when I met him. He was tiny, like this!” She measured an inch between her thumb and forefinger.