"By the moon, which glinted for a time through the hazy clouds, I could perceive that the speaker was a middle-aged lady, very dark complexioned; and, though not handsome, possessing a tolerably good, even stately presence; and that her goddaughter, whose features were blanched by terror, had fine dark Spanish eyes, and a graceful figure, though somewhat undersized. "I begged of them to be no longer alarmed. "'Señoras,' said I, 'my detachment is at La Guardia, close at hand; allow me to offer my escort to you, so far as Ciudad Real, for that, also, is my destination.' "'We owe you a thousand thanks, señor oficial,' replied the gentle voice of la nina Estella, who seemed to be somewhere about eighteen. 'Oh, I shall never forget that fellow's red beard! Madre de Dios, what a size and colour it was!' "'O ho! then our friend was Sancho himself.' "'Ah, señor,' said the old lady, 'how happily we will avail ourselves of your kind offer.' "'Good--I shall have pleasant companions for the remainder of this most unpleasant journey,' thought I, beginning to repack the half-rifled mails. "'We are travelling in great haste,' said the señora. 'Is your detachment composed of horse or foot, caballero?' "'It partakes of both, señora; being thirty waggons of sick and wounded.' "'Sick and wounded! O madre de Dios! 'tis quite a travelling hospital; thirty waggons--a lazarretto--and I have lost my priceless relic of St. Margarida the Scot. Oh, señor valaroso, we owe you a million of favours, but will rather proceed alone. And here is this rogue, Pedro, come back with his mule. Ah, false coward, to leave your young mistress in such peril. I will have you well beaten when we reach Ciudad Real; I will, sir. What would have become of us, but for the miraculous arrival of the señor oficial?' "While I assisted the trembling Pedro to restrap the portmanteaus, and put the mules in order, a colloquy was proceeding between Darby Crogan, and the Spaniard whom he had levelled when the fray first began. "'Silence, now,' I heard him say, while striking the butt of his carbine to shake the priming; 'it will soon be all over wid ye; so die aisy--do, and don't be bothering me.' "'Ay, por amor de Dios, Señor Inglese,' implored the Spaniard on his knees. "'Señor Inglese, indeed!' said Darby, testily, as the aquardiente mounted into his brain; 'is it an Englishman you'd call me, you rascally Spaniard, and I, praise God! a dacent Irishman, like my father and mother before me?' "'Ay de mi, Señor Dragone----' "'Dragon, is it, now! I have a name, Mr. Spaniard, as good as your own, for lack of a better, and that is Darby Crogan, ould Widda Crogan's boy, at the four cross roads, near the bog of ----; but what am I prating about? To make a long story short, prepare for your wooden surtoo, and make a clane breast you spalpeen of the earth, you!' "'Come, come, Darby,' said I, 'let him go; he is only a poor rascal of a Murcian.'