There was nothing very gracious either in the words or tones of the speaker; but they were unexpected. They swept away the proud and angry resolutions of Juan, and restored to him the warm feelings of affection and gratitude, with which he had ever been accustomed to regard the general. He seized the proffered hand, pressed it to his lips, and seemed about to throw himself at Don Hernan's feet, when suddenly a noise was heard at a curtained door hard by, accompanied by what seemed the smothered shriek of a woman. At this sound the young man started up, with a look of fear, and yielded up the hand which was abruptly snatched from his own. He gazed round him and plainly beheld the thick cloth before the nearest passage, shaking, as if disturbed by the recent passage of some one,--but nothing else. He perceived no new countenance added to those of the many in audience, which were directed upon his own, with an universal stare of wonder. His attention was recalled by the voice of Cortes. He turned; the general was seated; a stern and iron gravity had taken the place of relenting feeling on his visage; and it was evident to the unfortunate Juan, that the hour of reconciliation had passed away, and for ever. The cavaliers retreated,--the Tlascalan and the dog were all that remained by his side; and, as if to make his disgrace both undeniable and intolerable, the senor Guzman maintained, throughout the whole scene, his post at the general's side, confronted face to face with his fallen rival. "We are ready to hear thee, Juan Lerma," said the Captain-General, with a voice at once cold and commanding: "you went hence, to explore the lands of the west, and the sea that rolls among them. We argue much success, and great discoveries, from the time devoted to these purposes, and from the discretion you evinced in pursuing them for a whole year and more, rather than by returning with your forces, to share in the dangerous fights of Mexico. What have you to say? You had some good followers, both Christian and unconverted.--Stand thou aloof, Gaspar Olea! I will presently speak with thee.--Hast thou brought none back with thee but the Barba-Roxa,--Gaspar of the Red Beard?" There was not a word in this address which did not sting the young man to the heart; and the insulting insinuation which a portion of it conveyed, was uttered in a tone of the most cutting sarcasm. He trembled, reddened, clenched his hand in the shaggy coat of Befo,--who still, though beckoned by Cortes, refused to leave the exile,--until the animal whined with pain. Then, smothering his emotions, like one who perceives that he is wronged, and, knowing that complaint will be unavailing, is resolute to suffer with fortitude, he elevated his lofty figure with tranquil dignity, looked upon Cortes with an aspect no longer reproachful, and replied,