senores,&rdquo; he concluded, with a courteous glance at his rising guests. </p> <p> &ldquo;But what became of the child. General?&rdquo; we asked. </p> <p> &ldquo;Ah, the child, the child.&rdquo; </p> <p> He walked to one of the windows opening on his beautiful garden, the refuge of his old days. Its fame was great in the land. Keeping us back with a raised arm, he called out, &ldquo;Erminia, Erminia!&rdquo; and waited. Then his cautioning arm dropped, and we crowded to the windows. </p> <p> From a clump of trees a woman had come upon the broad walk bordered with flowers. We could hear the rustle of her starched petticoats and observed the ample spread of her old-fashioned black silk skirt. She looked up, and seeing all these eyes staring at her stopped, frowned, smiled, shook her finger at the General, who was laughing boisterously, and drawing the black lace on her head so as to partly conceal her haughty profile, passed out of our sight, walking with stiff dignity. </p> <p> &ldquo;You have beheld the guardian angel of the old man&mdash;and her to whom you owe all that is seemly and comfortable in my hospitality. Somehow, senores, though the flame of love has been kindled early in my breast, I have never married. And because of that perhaps the sparks of the sacred fire are not yet extinct here.&rdquo; He struck his broad chest. &ldquo;Still alive, still alive,&rdquo; he said, with serio-comic emphasis. &ldquo;But I shall not marry now. She is General Santierra&rsquo;s adopted daughter and heiress.&rdquo; </p> <p> One of our fellow-guests, a young naval officer, described her afterwards as a &ldquo;short, stout, old girl of forty or thereabouts.&rdquo; We had all noticed that her hair was turning grey, and that she had very fine black eyes. </p> <p> &ldquo;And,&rdquo; General Santierra continued, &ldquo;neither would she ever hear of marrying any one. A real calamity! Good, patient, devoted to the old man. A simple soul. But I would not advise any of you to ask for her hand, for if she took yours into hers it would be only to crush your bones. Ah! she does not jest on that subject. And she is the own daughter of her father, the strong man who perished through his own strength: the strength of his body, of his simplicity&mdash;of his love!&rdquo; </p> <p> <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> <br /><br /><br /><br /> </div> <h2> THE INFORMER </h2> <h3> AN IRONIC TALE </h3> <p> Mr. X came to me, preceded by a letter of introduction from a good friend of mine in Paris, specifically to see my collection of Chinese bronzes and porcelain. </p> <p>