As is known, at an earlier hour Don Ignacio had paid a visit to the Palacio, to seek clemency for a prisoner-of-war, Florence Kearney. But pardon for a state prisoner was also included in his application--that being Ruperto Rivas. Of all this the ladies were well aware, since it was at their instigation, and through their importunity, he had acted. It was only, therefore, by the urgency of a despairing effort, as a _dernier ressort_, these had now sought the presence as petitioners, and naturally they dreaded denial. Noting the Condesa's backwardness--a thing new but not displeasing to him, since it gave promise of influence over her--Santa Anna said interrogatively: "Might this favour, as you are pleased to term it, have ought to do with a request lately made to me by Don Ignacio Valverde?" "'Tis the same, your Excellency," answered the Countess, at length recovering spirit, but still keeping up the air of meek supplication she had assumed. "Indeed!" exclaimed the Dictator, adding, "that grieves me very much." He made an attempt to look sorry, though it needed none for him to appear chagrined. This he was in reality, and for reasons intelligible. Here were two ladies, both of whom he had amatory designs upon, each proclaiming by her presence--as it were telling him to his teeth, the great interest she felt in another--that or she would not have been there! "But why, Excellentissimo?" asked the Countess, entreatingly. "What is there to grieve you in giving their freedom to two men--gentlemen, neither of whom has been guilty of crime, and who are in prison only for offences your Excellency can easily pardon?" "Not so easily as you think, Condesa. You forget that I am but official head of the State, and have others to consult--my Ministers and the Congress--in affairs of such magnitude. Know, too, that both these men for whom you solicit pardon have been guilty of the gravest offences; one of them, a foreigner, an enemy of our country, taken in arms against it; the other, I am sorry to say, a citizen, who has become a rebel, and worse still, a robber!" "'Tis false!" exclaimed the Countess, all at once changing tone, and seeming to forget the place she was in and the presence. "Don Ruperto Rivas is no robber; never was, nor rebel either; instead, the purest of patriots!" Never looked Ysabel Almonte lovelier than at that moment--perhaps never woman. Her spirit roused, cheeks red, eyes sparkling with indignation, attitude erect--for she had started up from her chair--she seemed to be the very impersonation of defiance, angry, but beautiful. No longer meek or supplicating now. Instinct or intuition told her it would be of no use pleading further, and she had made up her mind for the worst.