"Senor Quesada came there in a devil of a temper, and when I tried to stop him seeing my patient, his reply was the pretty one that if I attempted to resist him a minute longer he’d pack me off to gaol for a Carlist. And by the Lord he meant it too: for he hadn’t been closeted with Livenza five minutes before he came out to me and told me I was either a dupe or a conspirator, and that if I wasn’t out of the house in a twinkling he’d take the latter view and act on it; and that there was much more in the thing than I seemed to think." "And you left?" "I’m not quite such a mule as to prefer a gaol to my present quarters, thank you." "You have not had your fees," I said, pulling out my purse to pay him. "And don’t want any, if you please." "You explained, of course, that I had retained you?" "I told him everything that had passed, and thank my patron saint I got out of the place without a police escort." I made such apology to him as I could, and left him, quite unappeased and still full of indignation, and drove in all haste to Quesada’s house, feeling very anxious. Matters were moving very fast, much faster than I had anticipated, and I saw that I must play my card boldly. I half expected he would deny himself, but I was shown in without hesitation, and his sister came to me. She was looking very troubled and pale, I thought; but she greeted me with her customary warmth and cordiality. "You have not been to see us since your return from England, Senor Carbonnell. That is not how we interpret friendship in Spain." "I have been back only two days, senorita, and they have been very full ones. I pray you to excuse me. And even now I have come to see your brother on business." "That is engagingly frank, at any rate," and she tossed her head. "I am very clumsy in my phrase, I fear; but very anxious. Do not think it is not a pleasure to me to see you." "Do you English generally seek pleasure by avoiding it?" "Scarcely so; but with us self-denial is sometimes counted a virtue," and I made her an elaborate bow to point the compliment. "Have you practised the same self-denial with all your Madrid friends?" and a sharp little glance told me her meaning. "I am unfortunate indeed; for all my Madrid friends are making the same complaint." "I am surprised. For they have not all the same ground as I have. Do you know how much I wish to be your friend, senor?" "I know that I could not rank your friendship too high." "Ah, you fence with me; but it is useless, I know. And the time may come when my friendship may be of more account to you than a mere well-turned phrase." "It must ever be one of my choicest possessions," I answered, wondering what on earth she meant now. "Sebastian is not at home just now, but he will be here soon. Do you think you are wise in seeing him?" "I have come for that purpose, senorita," I said, firmly.