She took his hand, as she spoke, and led him away from the parapet facing the ford to the one on the upper side of the bridge; when, suddenly, such a faintness seized her, that she was obliged to cling to him, as she hung over the low and crumbling wall. And how lovely she looked in the moonlight, so pale, and pure, and perfect; and at the same time so intensely feminine and helpless! “Let me fall,” she murmured; “what does it matter, with no one in the world to care for me? Hilary, let me fall, I implore you.” “That would be nice gratitude to the one who nursed me, and saved my life. Senhorita, sit down, I pray you. Allow me to hold you. You are in great danger.” “Oh no, oh no!” she answered faintly; as he was obliged to support her exquisite, but alas! too sensitive figure. “Oh, I must not be embraced. Oh, Hilary, how can you do such a thing to me?” “How can I help such a thing, you mean? How beautiful you are, Claudia!” “What is the use of it? Alas! what is the use of it, if I am? When the only one in all the world----” “Ah! There I heard that noise again. It is impossible that it can be the water,--and I see horses, and the flash of arms.” “Oh, do not leave me! I shall fall into the torrent. For the sake of all the saints, stay one moment! How can I be found here? What infamy!--at least, at least, swear one thing.” “Anything--anything. But I must be gone. I may be ruined in a moment.” “And so may I. In the name of the Saviour, swear not to tell that I met you here. My father would kill me. You cannot even dream----” “I swear that no power on earth shall make me say a word about you.” “Oh, I faint, I faint! Lay me there in the shadow. No one will see me. It is the last time. O how cruel, how cold, how false! how bitterly cruel you are to me!” “Is it true,” in a breath he whispered--for now he was in great stir, and hurry, and heard the Spanish trumpets sound, as he carried her towards the shadow of the keep, and there for an instant leaned over her: “is it true that you love me, Claudia?” “With my whole--oh, what do I say?” And as if she could not trust the echoes, she glanced at the corner timidly; “oh, do not go, for one moment, darling!--with every atom of my poor----” “Heart,” she was going to say, no doubt, but was spared the trouble; for down fell Hilary, stunned by a crashing blow from that dark corner; and in a moment Alcides d’Alcar had him by the throat with gigantic hands, and planted one great knee on his breast. “Did I do it well?” asked Claudia, recovering bright activity, “Oh, don’t let him see me. He never must know it.” “Neither that nor anything else shall he know,” the brigand muttered, with a furious grasp; until poor Hilary’s blue eyes started forth their sockets. “You did it too well, my fair actress; so warmly, indeed, that I am quite jealous. The bottom of the Zujar is his marriage-couch.”