"My father was an elderly man when he married my mother. His daughter, now Señora Barcelo, was then nearly grown. My mother died when I was three years old, my father, a few months later. I can scarcely remember either. My half sister married and went away. I was placed in the convent of Maria del Pilar, in Madrid." "Maria del Pilar!" She nodded. "I was in the division of the convent assigned to the daughters of hidalgo worth. I was reared there, on the strictest monastic lines. I was naturally light-hearted. Perhaps my grave teachers did not understand me, for they fettered my spirit by restrictions most onerous. If they had only taken the little motherless child to their arms and kissed away the loneliness! "One day I was in punishment for some infraction of discipline. The penalty was to remain alone in the dormitory, on the topmost floor of the building. I heard martial music in the square before the convent. I knew that the cadets of San Sebastian military school were drilling there." "Why, señora, I----" She continued. "The windows were stained except one pane, not a large one, which had been broken and replaced by plain glass. I climbed to it--the pane was rather high--and witnessed the military maneuvers. I remember the captain of one company as well as if it were yesterday, his youthful figure and trim uniform, his sword against his shoulder, his intent face." Morando was listening closely. "Whenever I could I watched that cadet corps at its evolutions on the plaza. Often I stole away from study to the dormitory. "One day the captain saw me. He waved his sword. I tapped the glass. That formed a code of signals." The soldier smiled. "The years went on. I saw my young captain become a colonel; saw his smooth lip darken with mustachios. His eyes and sword flashed at me the first time he wore the colonel's chevrons. "A firm hand on my shoulder startled me one day. 'Step down, señorita,' came the voice of our prefectress of discipline. 'Now let me see this great sight!' My colonel was waving his sword toward the window. He turned away when the new face came in view, but not in time to prevent the sister prefectress seeing the salutation. "A council was called. My teachers decided that a very grave breach of discipline had been committed. The prefectress, even with inspection from a nearer window, could not designate the cadet who had waved his sword. 'How long has this continued?' they demanded. I told them. They were greatly shocked. "I was ordered to point out the military student who had been so indiscreet as to carry on flirtation with a hidalgo's daughter in Pilar Convent. I refused to do so, nor could they overcome my will. I feared for him. The mother superior vowed she would have him 'broken.' She was the cardinal's sister, and all-powerful.