"The sofa, by all means," replied Warriston, stretching himself on the grass. "There is brandy in that jar beside you, and Lisbon wine in the bottle. Here, under these fine old chestnuts, we are quite a select little pic-nic party, out of range of shot, shell, and everything----" "Except fireflies and mosquitoes, Willie--a poor substitute for the girls, God bless them." "Whose trumpets are these? what's up now?" asked Monkton, as a sharp cavalry call rang upon the night. "The 3rd Dragoons of the German Legion, Burgwesel's regiment, are watering their horses." "Those Germans are regular trumps in their order and discipline," said Monkton; "but as for the Portuguese, damme, they are not worth their liquor. Even the Johnny Crapauds despise them. You have just come in time, Warriston, to hear Kennedy relate to us his interview with the guerilla chief; go on, lad, we are all listening," he added, as he and others proceeded to light their cigars or charge their pipes for a thorough bout of smoking. Quentin told them briefly as much of his adventures as he deemed it necessary to relate or reveal, from the time of his parting from Askerne to the hour of his return to Portalegre. The slaughter of the French prisoners at Herreruela drew forth loud execrations and unanimous condemnation. His illness at the Villa de Maciera was alone a mystery which he could not explain, and the manner in which he consequently and naturally blundered in narrating this part of his story, drew forth the laughter and the empty jests of the younger portion of his audience. "Damme," said Monkton, "you were a bold fellow, Kennedy, to become spooney on the sister of such a melo-dramatic individual--such a regular 'heavy villain' as this guerilla De Saldos! Egad, the sight of the fellow, with those black moustachios you have described, each like a snake twisted under his hooked nose, would be enough to frighten the French!" "Very singular style of person, your Spanish friend, I should think," lisped Colville, with his glass in his eye. "Remarkably so," added Ensign Pimple, raising his white eyebrows; "decidedly a dangerous fellow to have a shindy with!" "A most interesting individual, no doubt," said Buckle the adjutant; "but begad, not at all suited to a quiet rubber or a little supper party; takes mustard to his lamb, perhaps, and pepper to his enchanted eggs, but knows nothing, I'll be bound, of a devilled kidney, a broiled bone, and a tumbler of decent whisky toddy. 'Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard;' he is all spasms, big boots, and blue fire--eh?" While they jested thus, and Quentin, with something of annoyance and vexation, looked from one to another, Askerne and Warriston, who were men of graver mood, had been eyeing him attentively.