Less accustomed to "sparkling wine," he had not borne its effects like the boon companion who shared the revel along with him; or had not so readily recovered from it. Certainly he was not there. So much the less trouble for Tia Josefa! I could have told Dolores a tale that would have given her gratification. I wanted to do as much for Mercedes. The time passed--chant and psalm, lesson and prayer, rapidly succeeding one another. Bells were tinkled, incense burnt, and wax candles carried about. Still kept Mercedes her eyes upon the altar; still seemed she absorbed by a ceremonial, which to me appeared more than absurd--idolatrous. In my heart I hated it worse than ever in my life. I could scarce restrain myself from scowling upon the priest. I envied him the position that could make his paltry performance so attractive--to eyes like those then looking upon him. Thank heaven they are mine at last--at last! Yes: at last they were mine. I was seen, and recognised. I had entered the Cathedral without thought of worshipping at its altar. The love I carried in my heart was different from that inculcated within those sacred walls--far different from that inscribed upon the tablet: "God is love." My love was human; and, perhaps, impure! I shall not say that it was what it should have been--a love, such as we read of among troubadours and knights-errant of the olden time. I can lay claim to belong to no other class than that of the simple _adventurer_; who, with tongue, pen, or sword--as the chances turned up--has been able, in some sort, to make his way through the world! In my designs there may have been selfishness; but not one iota in the passion I felt for Mercedes Villa-Senor. It was too romantic to be mean. In her first glance I read recognition. Only that and nothing more,--at least nothing to gratify me. But it was soon followed by another, on which I was pleased to place a different interpretation. It was the warm look that had won, and once more seemed to _welcome_ me! There was a third, and a fourth, timidly stolen through the fringe of the _chale_. The very stealth flattered my vanity, and gave a new impulse to my hopes. There was more than one reason for it: the sacredness of the place; the reticence of maiden modesty; and perhaps more than either: the presence of Tia Josefa. Again our glances met--mine given with all the ardour of a love long restrained. Once more they met in sweet exchanging--once more, and once more. I had won Mercedes from her worship! No doubt it was wicked of me to feel joy at the thought; and, no doubt, I deserved the punishment that was in store for me. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. A CHALLENGE IN A CHURCH. While carrying on my eye-courtship with the kneeling devotee, I stood somewhat in shadow. A column, with the statue of some canonised churchman, afforded me a niche where I was concealed from the other worshippers. But there was a darker shadow behind me--occupied by a darker substance.