The effect was such as I anticipated--drawing from my own remembrance. The spirit passed immediately through his frame--filling his veins as with fresh blood. He soon became conscious: he recognised me. "Ah, senor!" said he, looking gratefully in my face, "It is you--you who are doing me this kindness! Oh! tell me, where is she--Dolores--my own Dolores--my bride--my wife? Ah--no--she was not yet that? But where-- where--" "Do not disquiet yourself about her," I said, with a bitterness that even his sufferings could not hinder me from showing. "No doubt she can take care of herself." "But where is she? O senor! tell me where!" "Compose yourself, Don Francisco. The lady cannot yet be far off. I fancy I shall be able to overtake the scoundrels who have carried her away." "They have carried her away? O God! carried away, by him--by him!" "By whom?" It was an idle interrogatory. I knew without asking. There was a voice still ringing in my ears--a voice I had distinguished through the din of the strife, and which even then I fancied having heard before. I now knew it was no fancy. The friar had convinced me of that. "That wretch, Carrasco!" replied the wounded man; "I am sure it was he. I recognised him despite the crape mask. Lola, Lola! you are lost! And still more _Mercedes! pobre Mercedes_!" I did not press for an explanation of this speech, that sounded so ambiguously strange. I only said in reply: "Senor Moreno, do not excite yourself. Leave the matter in my hands. My duty compels me to use every effort in recovering these ladies, and punishing the vile caitiffs who have carried them off. Have no fear about my doing what I can. If fate wills it, _your_ Dolores shall be restored to you." "Thanks, thanks, senor! I feel assured you will do what can be done. If not for _Dolores, you should for the sake of her sister_." "Her sister! What mean you by that speech, captain Moreno?" "Ah, caballero! if you but knew how she loves you!" "Loves _me_!" "Ay. It was in the hope of seeing you, that she consented to assist in a stratagem, of which I need not tell you now. It was to end by our going on to the Capital; where, since the storming of Chapultepec, she knew you have been residing. She heard of your gallant behaviour in that sanguinary action, and of the dangerous wounds you received. You cannot guess how she grieved for you--despite her chagrin. _Pobre Mercedes_!" "Mercedes--grieved--chagrin! You mystify me." "Ah, senor--your conduct mystified her. Ay more: it half broke her heart." "Francisco Moreno! for heaven's sake explain yourself! What does all this mean--about _Mercedes_? Pray tell me!"