"Leave Mexico," reiterated Magdalena. "If thou goest to Tochtepec, thou art lost. I have it in my power to aid,--nay, to secure thy escape. Say, therefore, thou wilt consent, say thou wilt leave Mexico!" "It cannot be," said Juan, with a sad and sullen resolution: "I will await my fate in Mexico!" "And wilt thou stand, like the fat ox, till the noose is cast upon thy neck? till thou art butchered?" "My life is nothing--I live not for myself; the redemption of others depends upon my acts. I have a duty that speaks more urgently than fear. My lot is cast in Mexico; I cannot leave it." As he spoke, with a firm voice, he bent his looks expressively on his companion. Her eyes flashed fire, and they shone from her pale face like living coals: "Sayst thou this to me?" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with fury, "sayst thou this to me?" Then advancing a step, and laying her hand upon his arm, she continued, her accents sinking almost into whispers, they were so subdued, or so feeble, "Lay not upon thy soul a sin greater than stains it already. Leave Mexico; resolve or die: leave Mexico, or perish!--Oh, thou art guiltier than thou thinkest! Thou hast cursed Hilario for my fall: curse thyself,--not Hilario, but thyself; for but for thee, but for thee, I had been happy! yes, happy, happy!" To these words, Juan, though greatly compassionating the distress of the speaker, would have replied with remonstrance; but she gave him no opportunity. She continued to repeat over and over again, with a kind of hysterical pertinacity, the words 'Leave Mexico! leave Mexico!' so that Juan was not only prevented replying, but confounded. He was relieved from embarrassment by a sudden growl, coming from the bushes at his side. La Monjonaza started at the sound, and in the moment of silence that succeeded, both could distinguish the steps of a man rapidly approaching the pool. At the same instant, another growl was heard, and Befo, issuing from the leafy covert, took a stand by his master's side, as if to defend him from an enemy. The veil of Magdalena fell over her visage; she paused but to whisper, in tones of such energy that they thrilled him to the soul, 'Leave Mexico, or die!' and then instantly vanished among the boughs. It was too late for Juan to follow her: he had scarce time to lay his hand upon Befo's neck and moderate his ferocity, before his eyes were struck with the strange spectacle of a tall man, in the garb of a Dominican friar, his face pale as death, his hand holding a naked sword, who strode into the inclosure and upon that part of the path which was illuminated by the moonbeams. No sooner had he cast his eyes upon Juan than he exclaimed, "Die, wretch!" and made a pass at him with his weapon. Had the lunge been skilfully made, it must have proved fatal; for though Juan still held the sheathless rapier he had brought from his chamber, he was so much surprised at the suddenness