so good as to give me some
information on this point, it would be better for you to know the story.
Last year my regiment, after a vigorous resistance, entered a village in
Navarre."

"A village in Navarre?" repeated Stephano, and his brow darkened.

"One house had been so well defended, indeed, that it was found
necessary to surround it, and our infuriated soldiers, drunk with
carnage, determined to massacre everyone within. I luckily surprised
them as they drew their sabres upon two poor old creatures and their
young daughter. I threw myself between the victims and their butchers;
the wretches turned upon me and I fell wounded by a bayonet thrust, but
they were saved. The kind people who owed me their lives bore me to
their house, and gave me every care. The young girl watched at my
bedside for more than a fortnight. Briefly the beauty, the tenderness of
the little girl, won my heart. Losing no time, I declared my passion.
She whispered, blushing, that I might speak to her parents. As soon as I
was well enough to walk, I hastened to the worthy old man, who, after
the shock he had received, became mortally ill, and felt his end
approach. I had no sooner asked him for his daughter's hand than he
exclaimed, 'God be praised! I shall not now die without having
recompensed our deliverer.' At the same time he took the young girl's
hand and mine, and, after making us exchange rings, clasped them
together. Then he stretched forth his trembling hands above our heads to
bless us, whilst on our knees by the bedside we swore eternal fidelity
to each other. Three days after the good man died, and the same day my
regiment left for Castile. Seven months passed without my hearing any
news from my betrothed, and it was only by chance I learned that on her
mother's death she had quitted Navarre to take up her abode in her
uncle's house at Panola.

"But what is the matter?" said the lieutenant, as Stephano rose
hurriedly.

"I know enough," replied the young man in a hollow voice. "The village
was Tafalla, and the young girl's name is Rosita."

"But what is there in that?" cried the lieutenant, who understood
nothing of Stephano's emotion. "You know Rosita? She is here? You are
silent. Heavens! Is she dead--or married?"

"No, no," replied Stephano, with an effort. "Rosita is here. No doubt
she loves you and watches for your return with impatience."

"Where, then, shall I find my betrothed?"

Stephano was about to reply to this q