Tia Josefa was not the only spy present in the Cathedral. I was made aware of it, by hearing a voice--of course spoken in a whisper, but so close to my ear, that I had no difficulty in distinguishing every word. The voice said:-- "_Por Dios, caballero_! You appear greatly interested in the _oracion! You_ cannot be a _heretico_, like the rest of your countrymen?" The sting of a wasp could not have caused me a more unpleasant sensation. The double meaning of the speech was not to be mistaken. The speaker had observed the eye signals passing between Mercedes and myself! I glanced into the gloom behind me. It was some seconds before I could see any one. My eyes dazzled with the splendour of the church adornments, refused to do their office. Before I could trace out either his shape, or countenance, the whispering stranger again addressed me:-- "I hope, senor, you will not be offended by my free speech? It gratifies us _Catolicos_ to perceive that our Holy Church is making converts among the Americanos. I've been told there is a good deal of this sort of thing. Our _padres_ will be delighted to know that _their_ conquest by the Word is likely to compensate for _our_ defeat by the sword." Despite the impertinence, there was something so ingenious in the _argument_ thus introduced, that I was prevented from making immediate reply. Stark surprise had also to do with my silence. I waited upon my eyes, in order that I might first see what sort of personage was speaking to me. Gradually my sight overcame the obscurity, and disclosed what the corner contained: a man several degrees darker than the shadow itself, up to his ears in a _serape_, with a black sombrero above them, and between hat and "blanket" a countenance that could only belong to a scoundrel! I could see a bearded chin and lip, and a face lit up by a pair of eyes sparkling with sinister light. I could see, moreover, that despite the _badinage_ of the speeches addressed to me there was _real anger_ in them! The sarcasm was all pretence. He, who had given utterance to it, was too much in earnest to deal long in irony; and I did not for a moment doubt that I was standing in the presence of one who, like myself, was a candidate for the smiles of Mercedes Villa-Senor. The thought was not one to make me more tolerant of the slight that had been put upon me. On the contrary, it but increased my indignation-- already at a white heat. "Senor!" I said, in a voice with great difficulty toned down to a whisper, "you may thank your stars you are inside a church. If you'd spoken those words upon the street, they'd have been the last of your life." "The street's not far off. Come out; and I shall there repeat them." "Agreed!" My challenger was nearest to the door, and started first. I followed three steps after. In the vestibule I paused--only for a second--to see whether my exit was being noted by the kneeling Mercedes.