g possession of them."

The officer received the pistols, examined them carefully, and returned
them to Herrera. Baltasar looked on with a perplexed and uneasy air.
Just then the brigadier, who was to command the column proceeding to
Pampeluna, rode into the plaza. The drums beat, and the troops stood to
their arms.

"Return to your place," said Herrera, sternly, to the prisoner. "We
shall shortly meet again."

And whilst Baltasar, alike disappointed and astonished at the strange
conduct of the Christino officer, resumed his place in the captive
ranks, Herrera betook himself to the quarters of the commander-in-chief.

This time Torres made no difficulty about introducing his friend into
the general's apartment. Cordova was lying at length upon a sofa in a
large cool room, a cigar in his mouth, a quantity of despatches on a
table beside him, two or three aides-de-camp and secretaries writing in
an adjoining chamber. He received Herrera kindly, complimented him on
his conduct in the preceding day's fight, and informed him that
particular mention had been made of him in his despatch to Madrid. After
an interview of some duration, Herrera left the house, with leave of
absence for a fortnight, signed by Cordova himself, in his pocket.
Proceeding to the barracks, he made over the squadron to his second in
command; and then mounting his horse, attended by Paco, and followed by
half a dozen dragoons, he took the road to the Ebro.

In a street of Logrono, not far from the entrance of the town, stands
one of those substantial and antiquated dwellings, remnants of the
middle ages, which are of no unfrequent occurrence in Spain, and whose
massive construction seems to promise as many more centuries of
existence as they have already seen. It is the property, and at times
the abode, of the nobleman whose arms are displayed, elaborately carved
on stone, above the wide portal--a nobleman belonging to that section of
the Spanish aristocracy, who, putting aside old prejudices, willingly
adhered to the more liberal and enlightened order of things to which
the death of Ferdinand was the prelude. In a lofty and spacious
apartment of this mansion, and on the evening of the first day after
that of Herrera's departure from Puente de la Reyna, we find Count
Villabuena reclining in an easy-chair, and busied with thoughts, which,
it might be read upon his countenance, were of other than a pleasant
character. Since last we saw him, full of li