"Ah, Don Ronald, are you here? I am indeed proud to see you." "You come upon us most unexpectedly, condé." "I have been in my saddle all day," replied the other, casting himself languidly into a chair, "and have this moment come from the quarters of Sir Rowland Hill, for whom I had despatches—" "From Lord Wellington?" "Yes, caballeros." "And Ciudad Rodrigo?" cried they eagerly. "Has fallen—" "Fallen?" "Two days ago." "Hurrah! Well done Lord Wellington!" cried Bevan, draining his glass. "The devil!" muttered Campbell; "then we shall have no fighting with Marmont." "He has retreated to Salamanca," said the condé, "abandoning to its fate the fortress, which I saw the gallant _Inglesos_ carry by storm in the course of half-an-hour,—killing, wounding, and capturing three thousand of the enemy." "Glorious news, Don Balthazzar," said Ronald. "But refresh yourself: here is sherry, and there Malaga, with cigars in abundance. After you have rested, we shall be glad to hear an account of the assault." "I thank you, senor caballero," said the count, providing himself. "What is our loss?" asked Campbell. "Have many _officiales y soldados_ fallen?’ "What the allies suffered I have never heard,—at least ’twas not known when I left for Castello Branco; but two brave general officers have been slain." "Their names, condé?" "Crawfurd and Mackinnon: one fell dead while I was speaking to him." "Gallant fellows they were, and countrymen of our own, too!" said Campbell, gulping down his sherry with a dolorous sigh. "But ’tis the fortune of war: every bullet has its billet,—their fate to-day may be ours to-morrow." During a long discussion which ensued upon the news brought by the condé, the latter had applied himself to the remnants of the tocino and huevos, with infinite relish. "I wonder what the despatches for Sir Rowland may contain?" observed Captain Bevan, supposing that the condé might throw some light on the matter; but the hungry Español was too busy to hear him. "Most likely an order to retrace our steps," replied Campbell. "I would wager my majority against a maravedi, that you will find it to be the case." "Very probably. The devil! we are a mere corps of observation just now." "It was not wont to be so with the second division," observed Kennedy. "Never mind," replied Campbell; "it will be our turn in good time. I drink this horn to outmost noble selves, and—— Hah! there are the bells of San Sebastian. I must be off to visit these confounded picquets: my horse will be here immediately." The major rose and buckled on Andrea, surveying with a sour look the long line of equi-distant fires which were glowing afar off,—marking the chain of out-posts, around the base of the mountain, and along the level plain. "Here comes my batman, Jock," said he, looking into the street. "Pentland, my man; is that you?"