Roderick, however, was quite aware it was not enough to have saved these people: he knew he must do something to provide them with food and lodging; and that if he did not, when the first moment of enthusiasm should be passed, unpleasant scenes must inevitably take place. He accordingly made dispositions to this effect, with a prudence and sagacity that would have done credit to far more advanced years. Temporary huts were erected, till the streets of Seville could be cleared of the ruins that encumbered them, and the houses in some measure repaired. Shelter for the inhabitants being thus provided, Roderick harangued the magistrates, directing them to take the people under their direction. These sapient ministers of justice gladly gave him possession of the town, which Roderick was too generous to assume without their permission, and acknowledged themselves and the garrison prisoners of war. The peasants, when they found the kindness with which the citizens had been treated, flocked in with provisions, and the camp of the Irish monarch soon resembled an immense fair. Alexis had followed his master during the whole of these arrangements, and had frequently sighed deeply as they proceeded. "What is the matter with the boy?" said Roderick in one of these moments: "I cannot imagine why he looks so melancholy!" The boy enthusiastically clasped his hands together, looking up to Heaven, as though murmuring an inward prayer. "What can this mean?" exclaimed Roderick with astonishment. The boy took his master's hand, pressing it first to his lips, and then vehemently to his heart, and knelt before him, reverentially bending his forehead to the earth. The next moment, however, officers entering for directions, the attention of Roderick was diverted and Alexis forgotten. In the mean time, M. de Mallet and his daughter, who had been exceedingly agitated by the events of the day, thought not of repose, but sat in the tent prepared for them, conversing upon the merits of their deliverers. "I never saw a finer countenance," said M. de Mallet, "so noble, so animated, and yet so good." "Good indeed," ejaculated his daughter; "surely if we could believe a superior spirit would ever descend upon earth, such would be the form he would assume!" "How kindly he spoke, and how considerately!" exclaimed the father. "How attentive he seemed, and how delicate!" rejoined the daughter. "Such a majestic figure!" "Such a graceful manner!" "It is so rare to find such condescension in so great a monarch." "Monarch!" cried Pauline: "were you speaking of Roderick, father?" "And of whom were you speaking, child?" returned her father, turning quickly round, and fixing his eyes upon her. "Of--of--Mr. Montagu, father," replied Pauline, casting down her eyes and deeply blushing. "Pauline!" said M. de Mallet. She started at the sound of her father's voice, and looked timidly up in his face. "Pauline," repeated he, "my dear child, beware!"