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my left ankle. I tried to shake myself free but the other one cut off my escape. He loomed up in front of me, staring at me with terrible eyes and poking out his tongue, which was as red as iron straight from the furnace. I pleaded for mercy but in vain. With one hand he grasped me by the throat, and with the other he tore out my eye, the one that I am now missing. He darted his burning tongue into my eye-socket and licked my brains, which made me bellow with pain.
    Then the other one, who had grasped my left leg, decided to use his claws. First he tickled the sole of the foot he was holding, then that monster tore off my skin, separated out all the sinews, laid them bare and tried to play a tune on them as though on a musical instrument. But as my sinews did not give out a sound which pleasedhim, he stuck his claw into my calf, pinched the tendons and began to twist them round as one does in order to tune a harp. Eventually he began to play on my leg, which he had turned into a sort of psaltery. I could hear his diabolical laughter. As the pain made me groan horribly the screams of hell chanted in chorus. And as I listened to the wails of the damned it seemed to me that every fibre in my body was being crushed in their teeth. Eventually I lost consciousness.
    The next day a herdsman found me in open countryside and brought me to this hermitage, where I confessed my sins and where I have found some relief from my suffering at the foot of the cross.
    At this point the demoniac uttered a ghastly howl and fell silent.
    Then the hermit spoke and said to me: ‘Young man, you see the power of Satan. Pray and weep. But it is getting late. We must each go his own way. I do not suggest that you should sleep in my cell, for Pacheco’s screams during the night might disturb you. Go and sleep in the chapel. There you will be under the protection of the cross, which triumphs over demons.’
    I replied to the hermit that I would sleep where he wanted me to. We carried a little camp bed to the chapel, where I lay down. The hermit wished me good-night.
    Once alone, Pacheco’s story came back to my mind. In it I found much in common with my own adventures and was still thinking about them when I heard midnight strike. I did not know whether it was the hermit striking midnight or whether I was dealing with ghosts again. Then I heard a scratching at my door. I went to the door and asked who was there.
    A little voice replied to me, ‘We are cold. Open the door for us. We are your little wives.’
    â€˜Away with you, damned gallows-birds!’ I replied. ‘Go back to your gibbet and leave me to sleep.’
    Then the little voice said, ‘You are defying us because you are in a chapel. Why don’t you come out here?’
    â€˜I shall do that this very moment,’ I replied at once.
    I went to fetch my sword, but when I tried to go outside I found the door locked. I informed the ghosts of this but they did not reply. So I went back to my bed and slept until daybreak.

The Third Day

    I was roused by the hermit, who seemed delighted to find me safe and sound. He embraced me, bathed my cheeks with his tears and said to me:
    â€˜My son, strange things happened last night. Tell me the truth. Did you sleep at the Venta Quemada? Did you fall into the clutches of demons? There is still a remedy. Come with me to the foot of the altar and confess your sins! Repent!’
    The hermit repeated again and again his pious exhortations. Then he fell silent and waited for me to reply.
    â€˜Father,’ I said to him, ‘I went to confession before I left Cadiz. Since then I do not believe that I have committed any mortal sin except perhaps in my dreams. It is true that I slept at the Venta Quemada, but if I was witness to anything there I have good reason for not speaking about it.’
    This reply seemed to take the hermit aback. He accused me of being possessed by the demon of pride and tried to persuade me that