on the sword, I might make Beatriz my wife. The polished duke was more
inexorable than the stern hidalgo. I flew to Beatriz; I told her I had
nothing but my heart and right hand to offer. She wept, and she refused
me."

"Because you were not rich?"

"Shame on you, no! but because she would not consent to mar my fortunes,
and banish me from my native land. The next day I received a peremptory
order to rejoin the army, and with that order came a brevet of
promotion. Lover though I be, I am a Spaniard: to have disobeyed the
order would have been dishonour. Hope dawned upon me--I might rise, I
might become rich. We exchanged our vows of fidelity. I returned to the
camp. We corresponded. At last her letters alarmed me. Through all her
reserve, I saw that she was revolted by her profession, and terrified at
the persecutions to which it exposed her: the old woman, her sole guide
and companion, was dying: she was dejected and unhappy: she despaired
of our union: she expressed a desire for the refuge of the cloister. At
last came this letter, bidding me farewell for ever. Her relation was
dead; and, with the little money she had amassed, she had bought her
entrance into the convent of St. Mary of the White Sword. Imagine my
despair! I obtained leave of absence--I flew to Madrid. Beatriz
is already immured in that dreary asylum; she has entered on her
novitiate."

"Is that the letter you refer to?" said Calderon, extending his hand.

Fonseca gave him the letter.

Hard and cold as Calderon's character had grown, there was something in
the tone of this letter--its pure and noble sentiments, its innocence,
its affection--that touched some mystic chord in his heart. He sighed as
he laid it down.

"You are, like all of us, Don Martin," said he, with a bitter smile,
"the dupe of a woman's faith. But you must purchase experience for
yourself, and if, indeed, you ask my services to procure you present
bliss and future disappointment, those services are yours. It will not,
I think, be difficult to interest the queen in your favour: leave me
this letter, it is one to touch the heart of a woman. If we succeed with
the queen, who is the patroness of the convent, we may be sure to obtain
an order from court for the liberation of the novice: the next step is
one more arduous. It is not enough to restore Beatriz to freedom--we
must reconcile your family to the marriage. This cannot be done while
she is not noble; but letters patent (her