There was a highwayman in the town, who levied small sums on the farms for cleaning young sneak-thieves out of the country, and for escorting rich persons when they travelled; Guillén requested him to give up his job and he did not offer the least resistance.
Juan Guillén married a peasant-girl, bought a truck-garden, and a wine-cave, had several children, and was one of the most respectable highwaymen in the district. He was the terror of the country, particularly to evil-doers; for him there were neither scruples nor perils; might was always right; his only limitation his blunderbuss.
To live in a continual state of war seemed to him a natural condition. Half in earnest, half in jest, it is told of the truck-gardeners of Valencia that the father always says to his wife or his daughter, when he is going to have an interview with somebody:
“Bring me my pistol, sweetheart, I am going out to talk to a man.”
To Guillén it seemed indispensable that he should carry his blunderbuss when discussing an affair with anybody.
Juan’s energy did not diminish with age; he kept on being as barbarous and brutal as when he was young. His barbarity did not prevent his being very fine and polite, because he was under the conviction that his life was a well-nigh exemplary life.
TENDER-HEARTED VICENTA
Of the highwayman’s children, the eldest son studied for the priesthood, and the youngest daughter, Vicenta, got ruined.
“I should prefer to have her a man and in the penitentiary,” Guillén used to say. Which was not at all strange, because for the highwayman the penitentiary was like a school of determination and manhood.
Vicenta, the highwayman’s youngest daughter, was a blond girl, noisy and restless, of a violent character that was proof against advice, reprimands, and beatings.