eep import to yourself."

"Your name, senor," replied the other, "methinks should precede any
communication you have to make me, would you secure my confidence."

"My name, senor, I cannot disclose."

"Umph! a somewhat strange adventure!" muttered the young cavalier.
"However, friend, since such you purport to be, say your say, and that
right briefly, for I have affairs of urgency on my hands."

"Briefly, then, senor. You have cast your eyes on the daughter of
Antonio Perez, the rich goldsmith?"

"That is my affair, methinks," replied the cavalier, haughtily. "By
what right do you interfere with it? Are you brother or relative of
the fair Magdalena?"

"Neither, senor; but I take a deep interest in your affairs; and I
warn you, if your heart be not irretrievably involved, to withdraw
from the prosecution of your addresses. To my certain knowledge,
Magdalena is beloved by another."

"What of that, man? A fair field and no favor, is all I ask."

"But what if _she_ loves another?"

"Ha!" exclaimed the cavalier. "Can she be sporting with me?--playing
the coquette? But no! I will not believe it, at least upon the say so
of a stranger. I must have proofs."

"Pray, senor, have you never observed upon the lady's fair arm a
turquoise bracelet?"

"Yea, have I," replied the cavalier; "by the same token that she has
promised it to me as a _gage d'amour_."

"Do you recognize the bracelet?" cried the stranger, holding up, as he
spoke, the ornament in question. "Or, if that convince you not, do you
recognize this tress of raven hair--this bouquet that she wore upon
her bosom yesternight?"

"That I gave her myself!" cried the cavalier. "By Heaven! she has
proved false to me. But I must know," he added, fiercely, "who thou
art ere thou goest hence. I must have thy secret, if I force it from
thee at the dagger's point. Who art thou? speak!"

"Prithee, senor, press me not," said the stranger, drawing his cloak
yet closer about him, and retreating a pace or two.

"Who art thou?" cried the cavalier, menacingly, and striding forward
as the other receded.

"One whose name breathed in thine ear," replied the other, "would
curdle thy young blood with horror."

Julio laughed loud and scornfully.

"Now, by Saint Iago! thou art some juggling knave--some impish
charlatan, who seeks to conceal his imposture in the garb of mystery
and terror. Little knowest thou the mettle of a Castilian heart. Thy
name?"

The stranger stoope