y to
accord me, I renounce a service in which even fame has lost its charm.
And hark you, Calderon, I tell you that I will not forego this pursuit.
So fair, so innocent a victim shall not be condemned to that living
tomb. Through the walls of the nunnery, through the spies of the
Inquisition, love will find out its way; and in some distant land I will
yet unite happiness and honour. I fear not exile; I fear not reverse; I
no longer fear poverty itself. All lands, where the sound of the trumpet
is not unknown, can afford career to the soldier, who asks from Heaven
no other boon but his mistress and his sword."

"You will seek to abstract Beatriz, then?" said Calderon, calmly and
musingly. "Yes--it may be your best course, if you take the requisite
precautions. But can you see her? can you concert with her?"

"I think so. I trust I have already paved the way to an interview.
Yesterday, after I quitted thee, I sought the convent; and, as the
chapel is one of the public sights of the city, I made my curiosity
my excuse. Happily, I recognised in the porter of the convent an old
servitor of my father's; he had known me from a child--he dislikes his
calling--he will consent to accompany our flight, to share our fortunes:
he has promised to convey a letter from me to Beatriz, and to transmit
to me her answer."

"The stars smile on thee, Don Martin. When thou hast learned more,
consult with me again. Now, I see a way to assist thee."

CHAPTER VI. WEB UPON WEB.

The next day, to the discomfiture of the courtiers, Calderon and the
Infant of Spain were seen together, publicly, on the parade; and the
secretary made one of the favoured few who attended the prince at the
theatre. His favour was greater, his power more dazzling than ever it
had been known before. No cause for the breach and reconciliation being
known, some attributed it to caprice, others to the wily design of the
astute Calderon for the humiliation of Uzeda, who seemed only to have
been admitted to one smile from the rising sun in order more signally to
be reconsigned to the shade.

Meanwhile, Fonseca prospered almost beyond his hopes. Young, ardent,
sanguine, the poor novice had fled from her quiet home and the
indulgence of her free thoughts, to the chill solitude of the cloister,
little dreaming of the extent of the change. With a heart that
overflowed with the warm thoughts of love and youth, the ghostlike
shapes that flitted round her, the icy forms,