riendly, so
gracious--the thought is intolerable.

"He approaches, he regards me fixedly.

"'A young lady, Senorita Montfort, and her maid, escaped from the
carriage of her stepmother, the honourable Senora Montfort, while on the
way to the convent of the White Sisters, ten days ago. A man of my
command was taken by these hill-cats of Mambis, and carried to a camp in
this neighbourhood. He escaped, and reported to me that a young lady and
her attendant were in the camp. I raided the place yesterday.'

"'With success, who can doubt?' I said. Civility may be used even to the
devil, whom this officer strongly resembled.

"He stamped his feet, he ground his teeth, fire flashed from his eyes.
'They were gone!' he said. 'They had been gone but a few hours, for the
fires were still burning, but no trace of them was to be found. I found,
however, in a deserted _rancho_,--this!' and he held up a delicate comb
of tortoise-shell."

"My side-comb!" cried Rita. "I wondered where I had lost it. Go on,
pray, Don Annunzio."

"He questioned me again, this colonel, on whom may the saints send a
lingering disease. I can swear that there is no young lady in the house?
but assuredly, I can, and do swear it, with all earnestness. He
whistles, and swears also--in a different manner. He says, 'I must
search the house. This is an important matter. A large reward is offered
by the Senora Montfort for the discovery of this young lady.'

"'Search every rat-hole, my colonel,' I reply; 'but first take your
coffee, which is ready at this moment.'

"In effect, Antonia arrives at the instant with the tray. While she is
serving him, I find time to slip with the agility of the serpent into
the passage, and turn the handle of the bedroom door. 'Spotted fever!' I
cry through the crack; and am back at my post before the colonel could
see round Antonia's broad back. Good! he drinks his coffee. He devours
your cakes, my Prudencia, keeping his eye on me all the time, and plying
me with questions. I tell him all is well with us, except the sickness.

"'How then? what sickness?'

"'A servant is ill with fever,' I say. 'We hope that it will not spread
through the house; it is a bad time for fever.' I see he does not like
that, he frowns, he mutters maledictions. I profess myself ready to
conduct him through my poor premises; I lead him through the parlour,
which he had not sense to admire, to the kitchen, to our own apartment,
my cherished one. All th