to Marcos--that is all I will do for you. I
will take you myself."

Juanita laughed scornfully and shook her head. She had plenty of that
spirit which will fight to the end and overcome fatigue and hunger.

"You may be mistress here," she said. "But I do not think you can deny me
a lodging. You cannot turn me out into the street."

"Under exceptional circumstances I can do both."

"Ah!" muttered Juanita, incredulously.

"And those circumstances have arisen. There, you can satisfy yourself."

She laid before Juanita, on the bare table, a paper which it was not
possible to read in the semi-darkness. She turned to the mantelpiece,
where two tall candles added to the sacerdotal simplicity of the room.
While the sulphur match burnt blue, Juanita looked indifferently at the
printed paper.

"It is a siege notice," said Sor Teresa, seeing that her hearer refused
to read. "It is signed by General Pacheco, who arrived here with a large
army to-day. It is expected that Pampeluna may be besieged by to-morrow
evening. The investment may be a long one, which will mean starvation.
Every householder must make a return of those dwelling under his roof. He
must refuse domicile to any strangers; and I refuse to take you into this
house."

Juanita read the paper now by the light of the candles which Sor Teresa
set on the table. It was a curt, military document without explanation or
unnecessary mitigation of the truth. For Pampeluna had seen the like
before and understood this business thoroughly.

"You can think about it," said Sor Teresa, folding the paper and placing
it in her pocket. "I will send you something to eat and drink in this
room."

She closed the door, leaving Juanita to realise the grim fact that--shape
our lives how we will, with all foresight--every care--the history of the
world or of a nation will suddenly break into the story of the single
life and march over it with a giant stride.

Presently a lay-sister brought refreshments and set the tray on the table
without speaking. Juanita knew her well--and she, doubtless, knew
Juanita's story; for her pious face was drawn into lines indicative of
the deepest disapproval.

Juanita ate heartily enough, not noticing the cold simplicity of the
fare. She had finished before Sor Teresa returned and without thinking of
what she was doing, had rearranged the tray after the manner of the
refectory. She was standing by the window which she had opened. The
sounds of war