Needless to say, he was too much occupied in reading the expression on Luisa Valverde's face to give even a look to the other beautiful one beside it. And alike was he forgetful of the man who stood beside himself. Yet, between these two neglected individuals, glances were being exchanged also in earnest, and watchful glances, which told of their being as much interested in one another as he in Luisa Valverde, or she in him. Better comprehending one another, too, as a physiognomist could have told, observing the play of their features. The first expression on those of the Condesa was surprise, quick changing to indignation, this as suddenly disappearing or becoming subdued, restrained by a thought, or possibly a sign, given by her "dear, noble Ruperto." As evinced by the fond, yet proud, sparkle of her eyes, he was no less dear now, no less noble in that degrading garb, than when she knew him in a gold-laced uniform, splendid as that worn by Santander, and he, in her eyes, ten times more worthy of wearing it. If he had turned bandit, she did not believe it; though, believing it, she would have loved him all the same. Nor in this would she have so much differed from the rest of her sex. Blameable as it may be, love--even that of a lady--has but little to do with the moralities; and of a Mexican lady perhaps less than any other. Certain, that Ruperto Rivas, robber or no, in that crossing of glances with the Condesa Almonte showed no sign of jealousy; instead, full confidence of being beloved by her. Though the account of this little episode seems long, the actual occurrence--gestures, thoughts, looks, changes of facial expression--was all comprised within a few seconds of time, scarce so much as a minute. Then the carriage containing the two ladies passed on out of sight, other carriages following, with other ladies in them; more cavalry-- Lancers, Hussars, and heavy Dragoons--more music, mingling with the shouts and cheers of the fickle populace, as they swarmed along the foot-walk, every now and then vociferating-- "_Viva, Santa Anna el Illustrissimo! Viva, el Salvador de la Patria_!" CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. A MYSTERIOUS MISSIVE. "O! Ysabel! To think of it! In the chain-gang--in the sewers! _Madre de Dios_!" Thus passionately exclaimed Luisa Valverde, half addressing herself to the Condesa Almonte in her father's house again, to which they had just returned from the ceremony of the procession. They were in the _sala_, seated upon the chair, into which they flung themselves, as if overcome with fatigue.