"The deuce take Tia Josefa!"

"And do you know, Francisco, there's something worse yet? I've only heard it this very day. Josefa told it me. I believe papa put it in her head to tell me. If I don't consent to marry _him_--you know whom I mean--I'm to be shut up in a convent! Only think of it! Imprisoned for life in a dark cloister, or marry a man I can't love--old enough to be my uncle! _Ay Dios_! What am I to do about it?"

"Neither one nor the other of those two things--if I can hinder it.

Don't be uneasy, love! I'll find some way to save you from such a fate--which would be equally ruinous to myself. Your father can have nothing against me, except that I'm poor. Who knows but that I may become rich during this war. I have hopes of promotion, and--listen dearest!"

Here the voice of Francisco sank into a whisper, as if the communication he was making required peculiar secrecy.

The words were not audible across the street; neither were those murmured in response. I only heard some phrases that fell from the lady's lips as she turned to go inside.

"_Adios querido! Hasta la manana_!"

Far sweeter to _my_ ear were some words spoken by Francisco himself.

"Stay! A moment, _dear Dolores_! one moment--"

I did not hear the conclusion of his pa.s.sionate appeal, nor the reply-- if there was one.

Dolores might have stayed in the _balcon_, and chatted with her dear Francis for an hour by the cathedral clock, without giving me the slightest chagrin. I was too happy to listen to another word of their conversation.

Mercedes--_my_ Mercedes--was not she who had dropped that little note, and said to him who received it, "Va con Dios!"

There was still a hope that her heart was free; that no "querido Francisco" had yet taken possession of it!

"G.o.d grant but that," was my mental prayer, as I turned to take my departure, "and Mercedes may yet be mine!"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

QUE COSA?

Giving way to sweet imaginings, I stood for some seconds under the shadow of the portal.

Meanwhile the Mexican had pa.s.sed out of the street.

As I believed that he had gone back to the saloon we had both lately forsaken, I started in the same direction.

I now longed to have a conversation with him; determined in my own mind that it should be more cordial than any that had yet taken place between us. I could at that moment have embraced him: for my grat.i.tude, hitherto restrained by the thought of his being my rival, was suddenly exalted to a feeling of fervour.

I should seek an interview with the n.o.ble youth; make known who it was he had befriended; and ask if there was any way in which I could reciprocate his generosity?

My heart was overflowing towards Francisco Moreno! As he had been the cause of my late misery, I now looked upon him as the instrument of my regeneration.

"Oh! I shall make an ample return to him! But what is it to be?"

Just as I gave thought to the interrogatory, a harsh sound struck upon my ears--as if some one, suddenly stopped in the street, had uttered a cry of mixed anger and surprise. It was followed by the words:

"_Que cosa caballeros? Que cosa comigo_?" (What is it, gentlemen?

What do you want with me?)

"_Vuestra bolsa, senor; nada mas_" (Your purse, sir; nothing more.)

"_Carrambo_! A modest demand! For all that, I'm not inclined to comply with it. You may have my purse; but not till after you've taken my life. Out of the way, scoundrels! Let me pa.s.s!"

"Upon him, _camarados_! He is loaded with doblones. _Al tierra_! Down with him!"

These words--not very loudly spoken--were succeeded by the sounds of a struggle, in which several men appeared to take part; five or six, as I could tell by the shuffling of their shoes upon the flagged pavement.

I no longer heard words; or only a few, that seemed spoken under restraint, and scarce louder than whispers!

Even he who had first called out appeared to have become suddenly silent!

For all that the struggle was continuing!

The street in which it was taking place was a sort of narrow pa.s.sage-- leading from one of the main thoroughfares towards the Piazza Grande-- and not far from the entrance to the Calle del Obispo.

It was dimly illumined by a solitary lard lamp, whose feeble flickering only served to make the path more uncertain.

I had myself entered the lane--which chanced to be a near cut between the cafe to which I was returning, and the "calle" I had left behind.

It was just as I had got into it that the cry fell upon my ears, followed by the challenge "_Que cosa caballeros_?"

The rest of the dialogue did not occupy ten seconds of time, before the conflict commenced; and, as the scene of strife was not more than ten paces from where I had paused, another half-score of seconds carried me up to the spot.

I had been thus prompt in rushing to the rescue, because I fancied that I knew the voice of the man who was being a.s.saulted.

I was right. It was Francisco Moreno!

I found him in the midst of five men, forming a sort of quincunx around him; against all five of whom he was industriously defending himself; while they were as busy in the endeavour to get him down.

They were all armed with _machetes_; while he wielded a sword, which he had drawn from under his cloak.

I could see that the attacking party carried pistols, but did not attempt to use them--perhaps from fear of causing an alarm, and thus defeating their purpose: to all appearance plunder!

I was not so chary about the discharging of mine. The moment I caught sight of the _Red Hats_--for the a.s.sailants were so distinguished--I had a clear comprehension of the sort of gentry with whom the Mexican had to deal, as well as the character of the attack.

The blood ran scalding within my veins. But that very day I had been sickened at hearing the details of an atrocity, committed by these precious pets of our commander-in-chief; and I had mentally vowed, if I should ever chance to catch one of them at their tricks, to make short work with him.

The chance had come sooner than I expected; and I remembered my vow.

The shout with which I interrupted their pastime was almost loud enough to hinder them from hearing the report of my pistol; but one of them caught the bullet that came out of it, and went groaning into the gutter.

I might have shot down a second, or even a third, before they could get out of the way; though they were anything but slow in making disappearance.

I was satisfied with having put an end to one: for this had I done, as was evident from the silent lump of humanity that lay doubled up along the stones.