“They said--but Lord! in a village they say many things that are not true--they said that the poor postmaster was almost jealous. After a little time the scandal wore away; and Jose de Toro and Captain Hillaire were the best friends imaginable.” “Base villain!” muttered the dark stranger, between his clenched teeth. “Well, my friend, if the alcade and postmaster found the society of the French so agreeable, how did the Cura feel?’ “He never could disguise his hatred; and for some days he was kept in close arrest, until the pretty wife of Jose Toro pleaded to the handsome captain for her old confessor, and obtained his liberty.” “Humph!” said the stranger.--“What is the nearest post that is at present occupied by the French cavalry?” “The nearest!--praise to the Virgin!--I have heard from a traveller is at Areanza--some half score leagues from Toro.” “‘Tis well,” muttered the stranger.--“Get me a trusty messenger; and mind that he be _trusty_--or--‘’ he looked the rest, the landlord perfectly understanding it. Egad! I never saw anything more expressive; it was a look that conveyed more than any language could express. One of his companions rose, and looked from the casement. “How soon,” he said, “the storm has abated! The moon has risen; and a finer night to take a hurried march and surprise a sleeping outpost could not be found.” “I wish it were otherwise,” returned he who seemed the leader. “And yet ten leagues from a French picket, methinks, is tolerable security. Go, Velasquez,--and see that this packet be sent forward, safely and swiftly. For his messenger’s fidelity I hold the landlord accountable. Tell him that;--and whisper in his ear, that the guest he entertains to-night is ----------” His voice dropped, but a smile of sinister expression told the rest. From a secret pocket the dark stranger drew out a splendid watch. “Past midnight. Come, gentlemen, one round more, and then for bed: we must all be astir by cock-crow.” The bottle for the last time made its circuit. Velasquez returned after despatching the packet, accompanied by the host bearing a lamp. He conducted us to a long gallery, containing at least sleeping apartments for a dozen; but the only occupants that night were the strangers, the fosterer, and myself. Where the muleteer bestowed himself I knew not; but subsequent events sufficiently explained the reason why we were not favoured with his company. No stronger proof of caution and insecurity could be required than the care with which each individual arranged his clothes and arms. Every weapon was placed in a position to be ready for the owner’s hand; while the business of the toilet was dispensed with altogether, as we all stretched ourselves on our woollen beds without undressing. The Spaniards crossed themselves devoutly; the fosterer repeated a short prayer; I cried “God bless us!” and in ten minutes all within the spacious chamber slept profoundly.