men in the street, he would cross to the other side, or get out of his way into the passage of a house. Occasionally, however, in turning a corner, or by mere accident, one of these persons would sometimes brush the garment of the artist, who then instantly sent his servant home for another, whether cloak or doublet, and gave the polluted one to his attendant. The servant, however, did not dare to wear what he had thus acquired, or his master would have turned him out of the house forthwith—he could only sell it. It is added that the manifest profit which the servant derived from his master's scruples, made the people doubt whether in all cases the Jew had really brushed against the artist, or whether the servant had himself twitched the cloak as the Jew passed. At any rate the servant has been heard to remonstrate, and urge that "it was the slightest touch in the world, sir—it cannot matter." "Not matter?—you scoundrel, in such things as these, everything matters;" and the valet got the cloak.
On one occasion, Cano's housekeeper, with an excess of audacity, had actually brought one of these penitenciados into the house, and was buying some linen of him; a dispute about the price caused high words, and the master came, hearing a disturbance. What could he do? he could not defile himself by laying hands on the miscreant, who got away while the wrathful artist was looking for some weapon that he could use without touching him. But the
