There was only a response of snores. "You, Pedro, attention! What's the matter here? Where are you? Wake up and stop your dreaming!" At this the startled landlord leaped to his feet, bowing through force of habit. "Ah, Señor Robledo! One thousand pardons!" he gasped timorously. "What can I do for you, sir?" "You're a wretch of a tavern keeper," and the newcomer advanced upon the unhappy Pedro as though about to slay him for his drowsiness. "Yes, señor! You are always right." The man humbly endeavored to collect his wits. "How may I serve your lordship?" The bully swaggered, puffed his cheeks, and feeling that his host was finally awake to the seriousness of the situation, he cried out once more: "My horse stands outside by the post. He has been hard ridden, for I have come on an important mission. Varlet, go out and wash his mouth, dry him down, and don't give him water until he has cooled off. Are you finally awake, you idiotic Pedro?" The tavern keeper gulped fearsomely, and bowed his most fetching bow, without result. "My horse is almost dead on his legs. Be kind to him. I've had a hard ride over these miserable province roads. As for me--I want a flask of ... well ... of something decent. I know that's not in your line. Step lively now; and mind you, draw it from your private cask. My temper is no better than it should be, to-night." The old man bowed and started to leave the big room. The blustering guest howled at him once more, punctuating his remarks with the butt of the whip. "Where's your daughter?" The old man trembled and bowed once more. "I'll call her," Pedro said apologetically. "She'll be right here, sir." He went to the door at the right, and shouted quaveringly: "Dolores! Dolores! Dolores!... There, señor, she will come at once." "And, Pedro--if that rat-infested larder of yours is empty, get it filled before the Duke arrives," added Robledo. "Yes ... the Duke. He is coming to-night. Don't stand and stare, but hurry up and see to my horse." "Yes, señor!... Yes, yes!" And he tottered away on his errands. Dolores had entered in response to the call. At first she did not observe the newcomer, whose back was toward her. "Yes, father," she began. "Why do you wish me?" "Dolores," Robledo turned toward her impatiently. "Did you not know I had come?" "Oh, it's you?" and there was a scornful sniff from the girl. "Well, well, can't you say you're glad to see me?" The jade was hard to impress, where others showed abjection before the terrorist. "I can, but I won't. Where's my father?" "Never mind your father--I want to talk to you." "Is it so, Señor Robledo? Well, you won't in that tone." He intercepted her in the center of the room, catching her wrist and turning her about to face him. "What do you want to say to me?"