The floors were of polished oak; the furniture, in many instances richly gilded, was all of crimson velvet stuffed with down, and the cabinets of ebony were covered with carvings, some representing the past discoveries, victories, and glories, real or imaginary, of the kings of Portugal. Many fine paintings bore marks of additions received from the French in the shape of bayonet stabs and bullet holes, with finishing touches in burnt cork, by which Venuses and Madonnas were liberally supplied with moustachios and so forth; while the frescoes bore such lovely delineations of fair-skinned, golden-haired, and ripe-lipped goddesses and nymphs, that, as Monkton said, "they made one long for pagan times again." Over a Venus being attired in scanty garments by some completely nude graces, was the motto "_Si non caste tantum modo caute_." "Which means?" asked Askerne, who had been trying to make it out. "In good Portuguese, 'If you can't be chaste, at least be cautious,' an old-fashioned aphorism," said Monkton. "Poor Portugal!" said Askerne, thoughtfully; "she is left now but with mere traditions of her past; a country without kings, warriors, poets or painters. The land of Camoens, of Rodriguez Lobo, of Antonio Ferreria, Bernardez, the captive of Alcazalquiver, of Andrade de Cominha, cannot now produce one patriotic song!" In one corner of the apartment a dark stain on the floor showed where blood had been lately shed, and there were the marks of a woman's hand upon the wall and oak boards, as if she had been dragged from place to place, thus telling of some terrible outrage--an episode of its recent occupants, the French. "Now, what the devil is the meaning of this?" asked Monkton, looking up from his culinary operations as Buckle entered; "Kennedy can't be the first man for duty." "No, he is not," replied Buckle, curtly, for having on his sword and gorget, he felt and looked official. "Then why the----" "Why select him, you would ask, with the addition of some unpleasant adjective?" "Yes." "Because a volunteer is always the first man for any duty that is dangerous." "And is this duty so?" asked Quentin, with very excusable interest. "Undoubtedly--there is no use concealing the fact, as foreknowledge will make you wary; and if successful, it will be reported favourably to head-quarters, 'that negotiations with the formidable guerilla chief--what's his infernal name--have been honourably concluded, through the courage and diplomatic skill of that very distinguished volunteer, Mr. Quentin Kennedy, now serving with the 25th Foot, whom I recommend most warmly to your Royal Highness's most earnest and favourable consideration'--that is the sort of thing," added the adjutant, putting aside his sword and belt, as the odour of the cooking reached his olfactory nerves. "You think, Mr. Buckle, that the colonel will recommend me thus?" asked Quentin, his young heart throbbing with delight.