"Boyish scruples!" interrupted the Count, fiercely. "Let us set upon him at once, as men, and punish him for his audacity, in addressing your sister without your permission." "Can a friend of mine make such a proposition to me?" exclaimed Goncalo. "We must have mistaken each other strangely. I have been wild and careless, but I have not become a midnight assassin." "Your pardon,--I was but joking," said the Count. "I thought we might fall in with this Don Luis, and enjoy a little small-sword play; for I confess I have a longing to pink him; but you may stand aloof, and see fair play." "I have already said, I feel no inclination to force into a quarrel one who has never offended me: if he seeks it, I shall be ready for him. I must, therefore, decline accompanying you." "Well, well, I will give up my point. He is not likely to be successful with your sister; so it little matters; though at first I felt annoyed, I confess, at his presumption. Come along with me, for I expect some friends at supper, who will help us to pass the night gaily; and we may then sally forth in search of adventures." They were now near the count's palace; and Goncalo making no opposition to his proposal, the former led him in, where they found a large party of dissipated young men awaiting their arrival. The count excusing himself for a few minutes, left his friend among them, while he repaired to his own chamber; there casting off the gayer part of his costume, he threw a cloak over his person, and selected a stouter sword than the one he laid aside, which he concealed beneath it. He then again issued into the street; and, walking rapidly along a narrow lane, he knocked at the door of a low, shabby house, but a short distance from his own princely palace. "Who is there?" said a voice. "'Tis late, and all honest people ought to be in bed." The Count gave a cant watchword in reply. "'Tis I." A laugh was the answer; and, the door being unbolted, the dark figure of the bravo we described at the inn on the road to Coimbra presented itself. "You are welcome, Senhor Conde," said the ruffian, as the count entered, and he bolted the door behind him. "'Tis long since I have had the honour of seeing your Excellency. Have you any work for me?" This was said in a low, miserable room, into which the count descended, by two or three steps, directly from the street. The floor was of clay, beaten hard; the walls unplastered, and the roof seeming as if inclined to fall in from above. There was a recess, with a wretched pallet-bed in it, and another of the same sort was outside. In one corner, an old woman was seated on a low stool, cooking some mess, odoriferous of garlic, over a small clay stove, lighted with charcoal; but she rose not, nor gave any sign of intelligence at the appearance of a stranger. The count looked towards her, without answering the question.