"What then, Ysabel? The loss of our property? It'll be all taken from us, I suppose." "In all likelihood it will," rejoined the Condesa, with as much unconcern as though her estates, value far more than a million, were not worth a thought. "Oh! my father! This new misfortune, and all owing to me. 'Twill kill him!" "No, no, Luisita! Don't fear that. He will survive it, if aught survives of our country's liberty. And it will, all of it, be restored again. 'Tis something else I was thinking of." Again the other asked "What?" her countenance showing increased anxiety. "What we as women have more to fear than aught else. From the loss of lands, houses, riches of any sort, one may recover--from the loss of that, never!" Enigmatic as were the words, Luisa Valverde needed no explanation of them, nor pressed for it. She comprehended all now, and signified her apprehension by exclaiming, with a shudder, "_Virgen Santissima_!" "The prison they will take us to," pursued the Countess, "is a place-- that in the Plaza Grande. We shall be immured there, and at the mercy of that man, that monster! O God!--O Mother of God, protect me!" At which she dropped down upon a couch despairingly, with face buried in her hands. It was a rare thing for the Condesa Almonte to be so moved--rather, to show despondence--and her friend was affected accordingly. For there was another man at whose mercy she herself would be--one like a monster, and as she well knew equally unmerciful--he who at that moment was under the same roof with them--in her father's house, for the time its master. "But, Ysabel," she said, hoping against hope, "surely they will not dare to--" She left the word unspoken, knowing it was not needed to make her meaning understood. "Not dare!" echoed the Countess, recovering nerve and again rising to her feet. "As I've said, he'll dare anything--will Don Antonio Lopez De Santa Anna. Besides, what has _he_ to fear? Nothing. He can show good cause for our imprisonment, else he would never have had us arrested. Enough to satisfy any clamour of the people. And how would any one ever know of what might be done to us inside the Palacio? Ah, _Luisita querida_, if its walls could speak they might tell tales sad enough to make angels weep. We wouldn't be the first who have been subjected to insult--ay, infamy--by _El excellentissimo. Valga me Dios_!" she cried out in conclusion, stamping her foot on the floor, while the flash of her eyes told of some fixed determination. "If it be so, that Palace prison will have another secret to keep, or a tale to tell, sad and tragic as any that has preceded. I, Ysabel Almonte, shall die in it rather than come out dishonoured." "I, too!" echoed Luisa Valverde, if in less excited manner, inspired by a like heroic resolve.