ed gambler. Go to him
at once! Ask back the paper! Tell him you have neither a heart nor a
fortune to bestow upon his daughter! That, as a gambler, fettered by the
lust for play, you have lost all soul for those hazardous enterprises
that win a girl's love and a father's consent."

She waited for a moment, that he might reply; and then, impatient,
perhaps, at his silence, added, "I did not think, senhor, you esteemed
yourself so rich a prize! Be of good cheer, however! They who are less
cognizant of your deserts will be more eager to secure them."

With these slighting words she turned away. Roland advanced as if to
follow her, but with a contemptuous gesture of the hand she waved him
back, and he stood like one spell-bound, gazing after her, till she
disappeared in the dark distance.

CHAPTER II. A CHALLENGE--AND HOW IT ENDED.

La Diche viene quando no se aguarda.

--Spanish Proverb.

(Good lack comes when it is not looked for.)

Roland looked for some minutes in the direction by which Maritana had
gone, and then, with a sudden start, as if of some newly taken resolve,
took the path towards the villa. He had not gone far when, at the turn
of the way, he came in front of Enrique, who, with hasty steps, was
advancing towards him.

"Lost, everything lost!" exclaimed the latter, with a mournful gesture
of his hands.

"All gone!" cried Roland.

"Every crown in the world!"

"Be it so; there is an end of gambling, at least!"

"You bear your losses nobly, senhor!" said Enrique, sneeringly; "and,
before a fitting audience, might claim the merit of an accomplished
gamester. I am, however, most unworthy to witness such fine philosophy.
I recognize in beggary nothing but disgrace!"

"Bear it, then, and the whole load, too!" said Roland, sneeringly. "To
your solicitations only I yielded in taking my place at that accursed
table. I had neither a passion for play, nor the lust for money-getting;
you thought to teach me both, and, peradventure, you have made me
despise them more than ever."

"What a moralist!" cried Enrique, laughing insolently, "who discovers
that he has cared neither for his mistress nor his money till he has
lost both."

"What do you mean?" said Roland, trembling with passion.

"I never speak in riddles," was the cool reply.

"This, then, is meant as insult," said Roland, approaching closer,
and speaking in a still lower voice; "or is it merely the passion of a
disappoi