"_Nada!_" forbade Dona Dolores. "Not so fast, senor. I am the duenna, and I have very sharp eyes. So also have others who are walking in the plaza. You have chanced to find my beads, and are escorting me to the house of Senor Vallois, where your friend, my husband, is to join me at breakfast. Please do not forget that you are escorting me. If you choose to pay compliments to my companion, and I am too deaf to hear anything that is said, who can blame me? Besides, you know I do not understand English."

"Senora, you are an angel!" I exclaimed.

"_Santa Maria!_ but that is the truth," she mocked. "Yet do not tell it to me when she is in hearing."

"Dolores! Is this a time for jests?" murmured Alisanda. The senora fell to counting her beads, with the most pious of expressions. My lady addressed me in English: "Dolores knows all, Juan. But it will be easier for you to talk in English, and she will not have to strain her conscience when she next goes to confession. Juan, it was rash to force this meeting."

"Forgive me, dearest one! But I could wait no longer. The interruption of our last meeting--"

"_Santa Virgen!_ that terrible aide! I was stricken dumb with terror when he lunged at you--from the rear! The coward!"

"You saw it?"

"All! all! Juan, dear friend, you must guard yourself--you must be careful! That savage Andalusian! I heard all you said--how you spared him, that I might escape the scandal of a duel beneath my window. Has he challenged you?"

"Not yet."

"Not yet! But he will--he will! Do not fight him with swords, Juan. You told me once that you were not a swordsman. He is the most expert fencer in all these provinces."

"If he is a master, I have a better chance against him as it is than if I were an average swordsman. He will at least not know what I am going to do, as he would know with one who fenced according to rules."

"But he will kill you! No, do not fight him with swords, Juan. Let him challenge you, and be sure you name pistols."

"Would you have me murder the man?" I protested.

"You need not shoot to kill."

"That is true. But, dearest, let us speak of more important matters. You have not yet told me--"

"I wrote of your danger from His Excellency, Juan. Be prudent. Make as few enemies as you can. You have many friends."

"Walker has intimated that I shall gain more friends if I tame this Andalusian bull."

"_Nada!_ If the swashbuckler challenges, you must fight, Juan. I know that. But do not force the matter yourself. He stands high in the favor of His Excellency."

"Alisanda," I replied, "you, like all others here, are far too much in fear of this tyrant Governor-General. But rest a.s.sured Lieutenant Pike and I comprehend the man and the situation. Should we show the slightest sign of weakness, I at least will at once be flung into prison, if not garrotted. The only course which will avert the blow is for us to show a bold front."

"Yet a little diplomacy--"

"Trust Lieutenant Pike to attend to the diplomacy. In his direct communications with Salcedo, he will flourish the steel blade in a velvet sheath. Aside from that, we have decided that the bolder our talk and bearing the better."

"Yet consider his absolute power--I fear for you, Juan!"

"What odds of the danger, if I have your love--Alisanda?"

A quick blush leaped into her pale cheeks, and she looked down, in sweet confusion.

"No, no, dear friend," she murmured. "Do not speak of that now. It would be too cruel, if later--Juan, you must see Father Rocus!"

"At once!" I a.s.sented.

"Go, then, now! You will find him at the _Parroquia_."

"But first, dearest one--"

"No, no! Go at once. We approach my uncle's house, and it is as well he should not see you."

"Then, if you bid me go, _au revoir!_" I said, stopping short.

She gave me a lingering glance which told all that her lips refused to speak. Dona Dolores dropped her beads and looked up at me with one of her bright, mischievous glances.

"_Santa Maria!_ but you do not leave us, senor? You have been so entertaining!"

"And you, senora,--I could not have asked for a kinder duenna."

She m.u.f.fled a peal of girlish laughter beneath the folds of her _rebozo_, and hurried Alisanda away, fearful, I suppose, that we had attracted too much attention. I wheeled in the opposite direction, and returned to the _Parroquia_. Aside from a few women kneeling here and there before the wall shrines, the great church Was now empty. But a young acolyte who came in to arrange the altar very courteously directed me to the parsonage, where, he said, I should find Father Rocus.

When I announced my name at the entrance, the gate porter at once admitted me, and rang a little bell. In a moment who should appear but Chita, my lady's Spanish maid. She courtesied and motioned me to follow her, without betraying the slightest sign of recognition. But the moment we were out of sight of the porter, she paused to whisper:

"_Tsst!_ Say nothing. They have sent me here that I might not aid her to see you or write to you. They do not know that the padre is a friend. It is as well that he even does not know how greatly I wish to aid you.

Senor, you are a _caballero_ and a man, and she loves you. It is right that you should have her, though you be twice over a _heretico_. But she will not wed unless the padre gives his blessing. It is true love between you. If you cannot be a Christian, make pretence. For her sake, bow to the holy images and cross yourself. Deceive the padre--for her sake!"

"No, Chita," I replied. "A _caballero_ may lie to save a lady's good name, but not to win her."

"_Peste!_ Then you will lose her!"

"We shall see. Lead me in."

She took me into a cosey library, where I found Father Rocus seated in a huge easy-chair, one foot cushioned upon a stool, a gla.s.s and decanter at his elbow, and a book of philosophy in his jewelled, white hand.

"_Hola_, Don Juan!" he called at sight of me. "You come in good season.

Be seated on the saddle-chair It will save your new coat-tails a creasing. I will not rise. A touch of the gout, as you see,--the first in months."

"Too much port," I suggested, swinging astride the narrow chair of carved mahogany. "Better take to sour claret for a while."

"_Nada!_ not while I can bear the pain. I might pa.s.s for an English squire--I cannot forego the port."

"I will write you a prescription that will ease the pain. Nothing will cure you but abstinence."

He drew a wry face between his smiles. "Then I fear my case is hopeless.

I am far from being a true Spaniard.--Chita, a gla.s.s for Senor Robinson."

The woman fetched and filled a gla.s.s while I drew my chair up to the marble-topped table-desk and scribbled a prescription. Father Rocus signed her to go out, and turned to me, still smiling, but with a sharpened glance.

"So you have already followed my advice and come to ma.s.s," he said.

"Your Reverence has a keen eye," I replied. "It seemed to me I kept close behind my pillar."

"Men are not numerous at early ma.s.s. Brawny, six-foot _caballeros_ in European dress are not seen every week. Lastly, this one has blonde hair. A glimpse was enough and to spare. You talked with her?"