"There will not." "Don Juan is ill, I fear?" said one of the guests. "He is not quite himself," answered Pauline, gravely. The two gentlemen expressed their regret and retired, accompanied by Armand Tremlay. Captain Prendergills seated himself in an easy-chair, and stretching his great legs upon an embroidered cushion, took a pipe and tobacco-pouch from his pocket, and prepared to enjoy himself. "If you could send me a bottle of brandy to wet my lips with, while I'm waiting, I should take it kindly, mademoiselle," he said. Pauline promised that his request should be attended to, and left the room followed by Paul. But on the threshold of Don Juan's private apartment, she paused and hesitated for a moment. "He knows nothing yet of what has happened," she said; "I better see him alone. Wait!" She entered the apartment and remained about a quarter of an hour. That period seemed an age to the young man as he paced up and down the hall. He had thrust the parchment into the bosom of his coat. He was dying to peruse its contents, but refrained from doing so until he could gain the solitude of his own chamber. He did not perceive two glaring eyes which followed his every movement from a dark corner of the shady hall. The eyes were those of Tristan, the slave, who stood concealed behind one of the pillars which supported the ceiling of the apartment. Pauline Corsi at last emerged from the chamber of Don Juan. "He will not see you yet," she said; "but in two hours from this time you are to go to him, and all will be arranged. He promises that the past shall be atoned for, at least as far as you are concerned. In the meantime you had better rest, for you look haggard and worn out, as if you had not slept for long." "I have not," answered Paul; "my duties on board the Amazon and my own troubles have hindered me from sleep." "Then go to your own room and rest. Remember your interview with Don Juan will be a painful one, and you will need to be prepared for it." "But Camillia, let me see her--" "Not until you have seen her father. Nay, do not think me cruel; trust me, I act for the best. She has seen your name and character cleared to the eyes of the world, and she is happy. You will forget the foolish words I spoke to you when last we met in the house, and you will trust me, will you not?" "I will, Pauline." "Then prove your trust by implicit obedience." "I will," answered the young man. He retired to his old apartment. It had been undisturbed since the day on which he quitted it. His books and papers all remained as he had left them, not a speck of dust had gathered upon any article in the room. He knew not that this was owing to the orders given by Camillia Moraquitos to her favorite slave, Pepita. He entered the chamber, and was about to secure the door before reading the document given to him by Pauline, but he found, to his surprise, that there was no key in the lock.