The sun had already risen above the walls of the town on the following morning, before Don Luis thought of ordering his horses, and he then considered it but an act of common courtesy to wait till he had seen one of Donna Clara's attendants, to inquire how their lady had borne the fatigues of the journey, and at last, when a black-eyed soubrette tripped down stairs, she kept the handsome stranger in conversation with abundance of questions in return, hoping that he neither had suffered in any way, and finishing by assuring him that her young mistress would be quite offended, she felt sure, if he departed without allowing her again to thank him in person for his gallantry. These observations, we must remark, were entirely the damsel's own ideas; for, of course, Donna Clara would not have dreamed of delaying Don Luis in his journey on her account; but so thought not the soubrette, and she was merely acting towards her mistress as she would have wished others to do towards herself; for it is remarkable what quick perceptions her class possess on such matters. He therefore could not be so ungallant as to refuse her request, and then he bethought him also that he ought to pay his respects to Goncalo Christovao, who had not yet issued from his sleeping apartment. He had for some time been pacing the drawing-room with rather impatient steps, when, on facing the door, it opened, and Donna Clara appeared, enveloped in the full and graceful drapery of her travelling dress, a slight pallor on her delicate cheeks, her eyes soft and liquid, and with a slight degree of bashfulness in her manner as she advanced into the room. There seems to be always a brighter halo of freshness and purity, circling round a young and innocent girl when she first greets the early morn with her smile of gladness, before the glowing sun of noon-day has cast his scorching beams upon her head to dim the seraph-like lustre of her beauty. So lovely, indeed, did Donna Clara appear to the eyes of Don Luis, that for a moment, as the blood rushed quickly from his heart, he stopped, unconsciously, to gaze with admiration involuntary; but, recovering his usual manner, he approached her with graceful courtesy, to inquire if she had suffered from the terror and fatigue of the previous day. She answered, in tones of silvery softness, a sweet smile beaming on her lips, and, as she spoke, his eyes wandered over her features, imprinting every lineament indelibly on the tablets of his memory. Though he knew it not, neither age, grief, nor madness itself, could efface that image of beauty he had drawn. Years might pass away, his own eyes might grow dim, that lovely form might fade, but there it would remain, unchangeable, cherished, and adored!