It proved to be a copy of a General Order, addressed by Marmont to the colonels of the French regiments, "saying" (to quote General Napier) "that the notorious Grant, being within the circle of their cantonments, the soldiers were to use their utmost exertions to secure him; for which purpose guards were also to be placed, as it were, in a circle round the army." "Caro mio, read this to me," whispered Juanna. He translated it, and terror filled the dilating eyes of the Spanish girl; her breath came thick and fast, and she crept closer to the breast of her lover, who smiled and kissed her cheek to reassure her. "Have you closely examined all the country?" he asked Domingo. "I have, senor." "Well?" "There is but _one_ way back to Lord Wellington's head-quarters." "And that is--" "At the ford of Huerta on the Tormes." "Six miles below Salamanca?" "Yes." "I will cross the ford, then." "But a French battalion occupies the town." "I care not if ten battalions occupied it--_I must even ride the ford as I find it_; 'tis a saying in my country, Domingo, where I hope our dear Juanna will one day smile with me, when we talk of sunny Spain and these wild adventures." "No--no--you will never leave Spain," said Juanna, with a merry smile. "Your poor Spanish girl could never go to the land of the Inglesos, where the sun shines but once in a year--not once every day, as it does here in beautiful Leon: but say no more of this, or I shall sing _Ya no quiero amores_," &c., and, taking up her guitar, she sang with a winning drollery of expression which made her piquant loveliness a thousand times more striking:-- "My love no more to England--to England now shall roam, For I have a better, fonder love--a truer love at home! If I should visit England, I hope to find them true; For a love like mine deserves a wreath! Green and immortal too! But, O! they are proud, those English dames, to all who thither roam, And I have a better, dearer love--a truer love at home!" "You have _me_, Juanna--dearest Juanna!" exclaimed Grant, tenderly, as he kissed her. "And now for Huerta," said Domingo, slapping the butt of his musket impatiently; "the moon be above the Pico del Puerto in half an hour--vaya--let us begone."