They had scarcely been seated there a minute, watching the groups who stood gazing in mute despair, or rushed about with frantic gestures deploring their loss, among the former being a few of the late inmates of the convent, when a person rushed by, his head, sprinkled with white hairs, being uncovered, his dress disordered, with hands outstretched, and eyes wildly gazing on every side. "My child, my child!" he cried, in piercing accents; "has any one beheld my child? I have been deprived of my son, and if now my daughter is torn from me, I am childless!" No one heeded him, for hundreds were uttering the same cries. At a short distance, a woman followed him, with loud shrieks. "My mistress, my young mistress! has any one seen her? Where have they hid her? where, where?" she was exclaiming, and then gave way again to screams and tears. Pedro regarded them earnestly. "That is the fidalgo Goncalo Christovao. I know him, the father of Donna Clara; and that old woman is her nurse. Depend upon it, senhor, they are in search of the young lady. Alas, alas! I fear that it will be as hopeless as that for my master; but, with your leave, senhor, we will follow them; for I know that if Don Luis was alive, he would be searching for her also." The captain agreed to the proposal, and hastened after the fidalgo, who no sooner perceived the group of nuns, than he rushed up to them, wildly inquiring among them for his beloved daughter. The captain and Pedro came up with him at the same time: not one of the nuns would venture to speak. With tears he besought them to answer him; explaining, with broken exclamations, that he was the father of a lady belonging to their convent. At length one of the sisterhood, pointing to the ruins, exclaimed, "Alas, senhor, we are the only survivors of the two hundred inhabitants of the convent; the rest lie buried beneath yon shattered walls!" The hapless father heard no more. Had he not forced his daughter to enter that retreat, she might have been safe; and with a loud cry he fell backwards, and would have sunk to the ground, had not Captain Pinto and Pedro been at hand to support him. Poor Senhora Gertrudes redoubled her cries, and wrung her hands in despair, as she seated herself on the ground near her master. Regardless of whatever else might happen, and calling on all the saints to restore her young mistress, she would, every now and then, seeing that the fidalgo was unable to comprehend her, reproach him for being the cause of her unhappiness; then she would abuse the convent for falling, and the nuns for leaving her lady behind. Captain Pinto was in a dilemma how to act; he was anxious to search for his friend, at the same time that he was unwilling to leave the fidalgo in his present state, and not a drop of water was to be found to assist in recovering him.