In vain did the friar
invoke every saint in the calendar, and the holy Virgin into the
bargain; every time he mentioned a name of the kind it was like a
fresh application of the spur, and made the Belludo bound as high as a
house. Through the remainder of the night was the unlucky Fray Simon
carried hither and thither, and whither he would not, until every bone
in his body ached, and he suffered a loss of leather too grievous to
be mentioned. At length the crowing of a cock gave the signal of
returning day. At the sound the goblin steed wheeled about, and
galloped back for his tower. Again he scoured the Vivarrambla, the
Zacatin, the Plaza Nueva, and the avenue of fountains, the seven
dogs yelling, and barking, and leaping up, and snapping at the heels
of the terrified friar. The first streak of day had just appeared as
they reached the tower; here the goblin steed kicked up his heels,
sent the friar a somerset through the air, plunged into the dark vault
followed by the infernal pack, and a profound silence succeeded to the
late deafening clamor.
Was ever so diabolical a trick played off upon a holy friar? A
peasant going to his labors at early dawn found the unfortunate Fray
Simon lying under a fig-tree at the foot of the tower, but so
bruised and bedevilled that he could neither speak nor move. He was
conveyed with all care and tenderness to his cell, and the story
went that he had been waylaid and maltreated by robbers.
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