midnight, all shall be prepared."

With a light step and exulting heart, Fonseca turned from the palace of
Calderon. Naturally sanguine and high-spirited, visions of hope and joy
floated before his eyes, and the future seemed to him a land owning but
the twin deities of Glory and Love.

He had reached about the centre of the streets in which Calderon's abode
was placed, when six men, who for some moments had been watching him
from a little distance, approached.

"I believe," said the one who appeared the chief of the band, "that I
have the honor to address Senior Don Martin Fonseca?"

"Such is my name."

"In the name of the king we arrest you. Follow us."

"Arrest! on what plea? What is my offence?"

"It is stated on this writ, signed by his Eminence the Cardinal-Duke de
Lerma. You are charged with the crime of desertion."

"Thou liest, knave! I had the general's free permission to quit the
camp."

"We have said all--follow!"

Fonseca, naturally of the most impetuous and passionate character, was
not, in that moment, in a mood to calculate coldly all the consequences
of resistance. Arrest--imprisonment--on the eve before that which was
to see him the deliverer of Beatriz, constituted a sentence of such
despair, that all other considerations vanished before it. He set his
teeth firmly, drew his sword, dashed aside the alguazil who attempted
to obstruct his path, and strode grimly on, shaking one clenched hand in
defiance, while, with the other, he waved the good Toledo that had often
blazed in the van of battle, at the war-cry of "St. Iago and Spain!"

The alguazils closed round the soldier, and the clash of swords was
already heard; when suddenly torches borne on high threw their glare
across the moonlit street, and two running footmen called out, "Make way
for the most noble the Marquis de Siete Iglesias!" At that name, Fonseca
dropped the point of his weapon; the alguazils themselves drew aside;
and the tall figure and pale countenance of Calderon were visible
amongst the group.

"What means this brawl in the open streets at this late hour?" said the
minister, sternly.

"Calderon!" exclaimed Fonseca; "this is indeed fortunate. These caitiffs
have dared to lay hands on a soldier of Spain, and to forge for their
villany the name of his own kinsman, the Duke de Lerma."

"Your charge against this gentleman?" asked Calderon, calmly, turning to
the principal alguazil, who placed the writ of arrest in the s