The native made him repeat it, refastened the door, and left Pedro in a fume. When she opened again, it was with a request to follow, and led him across the court. The señora appeared at a door with an under-garment over her shoulders. "Is it thou, Pedro?" she asked, sleepily. "What is to do? This is an unholy hour to wake a body, dost not know it?" Pedro pushed the door open, and entered. "’T is a crying need," he said, and hastily explained. "Who is this girl?" demanded the señora, with a pang of jealousy. "Peralta’s enamorada," replied the cook, thinking he lied, but venturing it to quiet her suspicion. "And who this Rogelio?" asked the señora. "A toad!" answered Pedro. "Wilt go? I will ride with thee to the fortress." The señora was retying the fagged end of her braid. "A favor to me, _carita_," urged Pedro. "I will go," said Señora Bolio. "Then come to the _cantina_ as soon as thou ’rt clad. I will have thy mule," and he hastened away. By the time the animals were saddled the lady arrived, her battle-axe beneath her arm, wrapped in a bundle of apparel. Pedro strapped it to her saddle, and summoning the fevered _veedor_, assisted the señora to mount. As they rode out on the quiet road, Rogelio leading, the cook gave further history of the Ñusta, together with certain sidelights on the _veedor_. They reached the fortress, and having seen the two through the gate, Pedro returned, relieved for Rava, but sadly disturbed by thoughts of Cristoval. The señora followed her conductor to his door. As he dismounted a sound of revelry stole out upon the night, and the _veedor_ dashed in. The neglected lady sniffed after him scornfully, swung herself out of the saddle, unstrapped her belongings, led her mule into the patio, and followed the _veedor_ to a half-open door. The unfortunate Rogelio was doomed to further bitterness. The room was lighted by all the lamps of the establishment. Duero and his companions were seated round a well-laden board, a bowl of steaming punch in the midst, and had arrived at the jovial stage. As Rogelio entered and stood blinking at the brilliancy, his fat chin wagging with renewed rage at their effrontery, they surveyed him a moment, and burst into a shout of laughter. Duero raised his cup. "Hail, good host, liberal entertainer, most hospitable mate!" roared he. "Thou ’rt welcome. Enter! Come, leave diffidence outside. Thou ’rt not intruding—now is he, _camaradas_? No! Sit and make free. What is ours is thine—not so, _camaradas_? _Segaramente_! _Hola_!" He sprang to his feet as the señora appeared at the door. "Blessed angels of Heaven, what do I see? The Señora Bolio!" He advanced with a profound bow. "Welcome, Señora, most welcome! Upon my heart, ’tis like the sight of a nosegay from Old Castile! Ho, _compañeros_!—your courtesies to _Señora la Conquistadora_!" He bowed again, answered by the lady with a glare of cold disdain.