ymen, and
dreaded a schism, should they be driven to choose between the fandango
and the faith. He stepped forward and objected to the criminal's being
condemned without being heard.

"The observation had weight with the assembly. He was allowed to
produce before them a _majo_ and a _maja_ of Seville, who, to the
sound of voluptuous music, displayed all the seductive graces of the
dance. The severity of the judges was not proof against the
exhibition. Their austere countenances began to relax; they rose from
their seats; their legs and arms soon found their former suppleness;
the consistory-hall was changed into a dancing-room, and the fandango
acquitted."

Both ladies laughed heartily at this story, and L'Isle went on to say;
"In spite of the exhibition before us, these people, in their serious
hours, retain all the gravity and ceremonious stateliness in language
and manner of their forefathers, in the time of Charles the Fifth and
his glooming son, when the Spaniard was the admiration and dread of
Europe.

"I have been told," said Lady Mabel, "that you may, at this day, find
many a Spaniard who might sit for the portrait of Alva himself."

"Yes," answered L'Isle, "It has been well said that the Spaniard of
the sixteenth century has vanished, but his mask remains."

Twilight was now failing them, and the party from Elvas hastened back
to the posada. The horses had been brought out, and some of the ladies
were already mounted, when Don Alonso Melendez came hastily up, having
followed them to take a ceremonious leave. His parting words with his
new friends, and especially his compliments to Lady Mabel, who did not
allow herself to remain in his debt, delayed them some time. As they
rode off, he waved his hat, and called out: "_Con todo el mondo
guerra, y paz con Inglaterra!_"

"We taught them that proverb long ago," said Cranfield, "by taking
their galleons laden with plate from the New World."

"The Spaniard has a treasury of wisdom locked up in his proverbs,"
said L'Isle. "What a pity it is he will not take some of it out to
meet the current demands on him."

They soon again crossed the bridge, and entered the _tete du
point_--but the dancers had vanished; their music was hushed; nor was
its place supplied by the song of the morning. The chorus of
"Guadiana--Guadiana," no longer arose from its banks. All was still,
dark and desolate before them.

Meanwhile, Lord Strathern, though not given to over caution,