His attention was next attracted by several standards, the trophies of war, which hung from the highest part of the chapel, where the roof rose somewhat in the form of a dome. These belonged to various nations; and one, by the crescents on it, he judged to be Moorish; but the other two he remarked more particularly. The one was the ensign of a British ship of war which had been wrecked on the coast of Spain; the other was an ancient Scottish standard of white silk, crossed with St. Andrew’s blue cross, and splendidly embroidered with silver thistles. About the latter he could not obtain the least information, although he made every inquiry next day. But it was probably the regimental colour of some of the Scottish auxiliaries who served in the Low Countries against the Emperor Charles the Fifth. Ronald was revolving in his own mind the means of capturing or destroying both these standards, when the entrance of the Condé de Truxillo diverted him from his purpose, and saved to the Spaniards those trophies which most likely still adorn the chapel royal of Aranjuez. "What adventure are you in search of now, senor, that you have not yet sought your billet in the Calle Mayor?" "I understand," replied the condé, "that the Carbineros of Medina del Campo marched into Aranjuez about sun-set. I have a very dear brother, an officer in them, and I am searching for some one to direct me to his quarters, late as the hour is. Manuel and I were very dear friends in youth, being educated together at our old castle near Truxillo; but we have not seen each other for six years, as our regiments have always campaigned in different provinces. He was a slender youth, without a hair on his lip when I saw him last, but now he must be a stout and well-whiskered cavalier. Ah, how much I long to behold him!" "I regret, condé, that I can give you no information as to where the quarters of the Carbineros are. Some of the quarter-guards may perhaps inform you." "Ho! senor Stuart," exclaimed Truxillo, as his eye fell on the shrine with all its little images and blazing tapers. "Lo, you now! behold what rogues our padres are. Do you know the meaning of all these images?" "No. I own I was somewhat puzzled to discover." "Well, senor," answered Truxillo with a loud laugh, "all these are the images of children born unto ladies who had long pined for them before they had visited this miraculous shrine,—so the monks tell us." "Strange, if true."