Of La Mujer Herrada by Thomas A. Janvier — Read

I do not know when this matter happened, Senor; but my grandfather, who told me about it, spoke as though all three of them -- the priest, and the blacksmith, and the woman -- had lived a long while before his time. However, my grandfather said that the priest and the woman, who was his housekeeper, pretty certainly lived in a house -- it is gone now, Senor -- that was in the street that is called the Puerta Falsa de Santo Domingo. And he said that the blacksmith certainly did live in a house in the Calle de las Rejas de la Balvanera -- because he himself had seen the house, and had seen the farrier's knife and the pincers cut on the stone arching above the door. Therefore you perceive, Senor, that my grandfather was well acquainted with these people, and that this story is true.[5]

The priest was a secular, Senor, not belonging to any Order; and he and the blacksmith were compadres together -- that is to say, they were close friends. It was because the blacksmith had a great liking for his compadre, and a great respect for him, that from time to time he urged him to send away the housekeeper; but his compadre always had some pleasant excuse to make about the matter, and so the blacksmith would be put off. And things went on that way for a number of years.