Her new attendant, the black-eyed paisana,—all blushes and smiles of pleasure at the prospect of a Badajoz hat with a silver band, a pelisse and frock of the best cloth from Arrago-de-Puerco, trimmed with lace, etc., which her lady had promised her,—appeared mounted, as we have before described, upon a mule, the housings of which were better than the friar’s, which consisted entirely of rope. Poor Victor D’Estouville’s black war-steed still had its embossed bit and military bridle, with the outspread wings of the Imperial eagle on its forehead and rich martingale,—which, with the saddle-cloth, embroidered with the badges of the old Guard, formed a strange contrast with the faded side-pad of coarse Zafra leather, which was girthed on it for the lady’s accommodation. When they had departed, he watched their retiring figures as long as they were in sight, until a turn of the road, as they entered the now deserted pass of Miravete at a gallop, hid them from his view, and he turned towards the bivouac on the mountain side, feeling a heaviness of heart and presentiment of approaching evil, caused probably by a re-action of the spirits after the fierce excitement of the morning, but for which, at that moment, he could not account. His distrust of the padre Jerome, the guide, increased when he recalled and reviewed many suspicious and singular points of his character. Communing with himself, he was slowly ascending the slope towards the bivouac, forgetting altogether the orders of the colonel, and turning now and then to view the little village of Almarez, embosomed among the umbrageous groves that grew around it, and far up the sides of the undulating Lina behind; the winding Tagus flowing in front, and the vast expanse of landscape and blue sky beyond, were all pleasing objects, and he gazed upon them with the delight of one who knew how to appreciate their beauty. He was aroused from his reverie by hearing his own name called, and on looking about, saw, to his surprise, Major Campbell, reposing his bulky frame in a little grassy hollow. His neck was bare, his coat was unbuttoned, and his belt, sash, etc., lay scattered about. Near him his horse was grazing quietly, but the major seemed inflamed by the utmost anger and excitement. Ronald advanced hastily towards him, and perceived that his servant, Jock Pentland, was dressing a wound on his neck, which was covered with blood. "What has happened, Campbell?" "Such an affair as never happened before, even in Egypt," replied the other furiously, with a mighty oath—sworn in Gaelic, however. "Nothing very bad, I hope?" "Only a stab in the neck, three inches by one!" "I knew not that you were wounded. Surely I saw you safe and sound after the mine was sprung at Ragusa. But I had better send the surgeon, or Stuart his assistant, to you."