"Ah," said Concha, "that tale was for the consumption of Don Carlos and his friends! In fact, he is the best spy we Nationals ever had--aye, or ever will have!" "Ah!" said Espartero, lost in thought. There were some matters which seemed to need clearing up, but on the whole the thing looked probable. Espartero had but recently been appointed to the district, and, being an Andalucian, he was naturally still imperfectly acquainted with much that had been done by his many incapable predecessors. Now, it is true that on this occasion our Concha was inventing or rather (for the word is a hard one to use of so charming a personality) restating as facts certain hints which had fallen from the lips of La Giralda. But she was also speaking from a profound knowledge of gipsy nature, which, as in the case of Ezquerra and La Giralda herself, never attaches itself permanently or from conviction to any cause, but uses all equally according to whim, liking, or self-interest. Concha, in a whirlwind of excitement, would have liked the General to attack the Carlist camp immediately, but the more cautious Don Baldomero only shook his head. "That is all very well when a small force is to be rushed at any cost," he said, "or a strong position taken along lines previously studied by daylight or opened up by artillery. But when our object is to preserve the lives of persons so important to the world as the royal family of Spain, lying at the mercy of ruffians who would not hesitate to murder every one of them in cold blood--it is best to wait for the attack till the morning. So I will push forward my forces on all sides, and, if all goes well, surprise Cabrera at the earliest glimmering of dawn." "And my friends who have suffered so much to bring this about?" urged Concha, anxiously. "What of them?" "I promise you, on my honour, that they shall be protected and rewarded!" said Espartero. "And Don Rollo, the brave Scot--even if the Queen continues to dislike him?" persisted Concha. "_Senorita_," smiled the General, "it will be a vastly greater peril to the young man, I fear, if _you_ like him! He will have so many jealous rivals on his hand!" For Baldomero Espartero also was an Andalucian, and the men of that province, high and low, never permit themselves to get out of practice when there is opportunity for a compliment. Concha looked the General full in the face with her deep, magnificent eyes, which were aquamarine, violet, or dark-grey, according to the light upon them. They were (as she would sometimes own) fallacious eyes, and upon occasion were wont to express far more than their owner meant to stand by. But, the latent love power behind them once fixed, these same eyes could convince the most sceptical of the unalterable nature of the affection which they professed. So it was in the present instance. Concha merely looked at the General squarely for a moment, and said, without flinching, "_I love him!_"