“Oh, I care not! I care not!” answered Don Rafaele, with a smile. “I’faith, I am quite a mariner now.” “Ah, Senhor!” returned Hildebrand, “we may, perchance, never tread the merry land again. And in this apprehension, I account not the perils of the sea, but the more fatal perils of war.” Don Rafaele looked downcast. “To one bred up to war, these give no concern,” continued Hildebrand; “but thou art of another mould, and, moreover, too young to be exposed to them.” “To speak fair sooth,” answered Don Rafaele, in a tremulous tone, “I never cared to turn soldier. ’Tis a merry life, certes; but commend me to a more peaceful one.” So spiritless a sentiment was not calculated to excite a response in the martial bosom of Hildebrand. Although, however, on its first utterance, he originally deemed it mean and unmanly, a moment’s reflection served to set the young Spaniard’s character before him in more pleasing and favourable colours. His noble heroism in the prison, in throwing himself between him and the alguazil, when such interposition appeared to entail upon him inevitable death, had not escaped his memory; and, though it was but a momentary impulse, he considered that this act alone answered for his courage, and denoted him to be the possessor of many admirable qualities. He had, moreover, from the nature of the events that had brought them together, and which had marked their acquaintance up to the present moment, insensibly begun to look upon him with regard, and so was further inclined to slight anything that might arise to his disparagement. Thus influenced, he replied to the cavalier in a soothing tone, and without taking any exception, either by his words or manner, to his somewhat irregular sentiment. “In the passing instance, Senhor,” he said, “thou canst not even have the excuse of a soldier for seeking to display thy courage. The enemy we shall encounter will be thine own countrymen.” “Alas!” sighed Don Rafaele. “Wert thou not with us, I should look for the issue less impatiently,” pursued Hildebrand; “but, as it is, I cannot conceal from thee, in anticipation of the worst, that their force will greatly surpass ours.” “But we may miss them,” said Don Rafaele. “But an’ we do not,” answered Hildebrand, more cheerfully, and with some approach to a smile, “thou must promise me, if we go into action, that thou wilt hold thyself below the while, and not engage in a contest wherein thou hast no concern.” “That do I promise heartily,” replied Don Rafaele, with much earnestness. “’Tis a wise resolve, and a brave,” said Hildebrand; “for ’twould become thee ill to take part against thy country. It grieves me sorely to see thee in peril at all.” “Nay, let it not deject thee,” rejoined Don Rafaele. “When thou art at hand, I have no fear.” The confidence breathed in his remark made Hildebrand smile.