“It was—Don Alfonso. Had they been brothers in blood, they could not have loved each other more. They shared the same sports, practised the same exercises. Together they rode at the ring, wrestled, played with canes. Sometimes one excelled, sometimes the other; but they were never jealous, their love was too true. Together they dreamed of the future, and planned deeds of daring and high emprize. Sometimes Africa, sometimes Ireland or Flanders, oftener your wild Western World, José, was to be the scene of their exploits. Vain, idle dreams! One of them, at least, lived to thank God for the veil wherewith His mercy hides the coming days. But for it, life would be all suffering from its dawn to its close. “As for Melchior, no shadowy forebodings dimmed his bright young spirit. He early gave his heart to a lovely girl, the beauty of the district where they lived, and accounted as good as she was beautiful. Great was his joy when, after an anxious wooing, he came at last to tell his friend that she had consented to bestow her hand upon him; and Señor Don Alfonso had to promise forthwith to dance the cachuco at their wedding. He was nothing loath, for he knew and liked the pretty little Juanita, and sincerely rejoiced in Melchior’s happiness. He had dreams of his own at this time, moreover. There were sweet blue eyes, whose gleam made summer in his heart, and golden hair—” “I did not think people of your nation had golden hair, patre,” José interrupted. “It is rare amongst us, and therefore perhaps more highly prized.—But to return to Melchior. Between him and the fulfilment of his hopes there was one great barrier. You cannot understand, José, how sorely, in the lands beyond the sea, men and women ofttimes suffer for the lack of those morsels of gold and silver you treat with such disdain.” “I understand very well, patre. They were poor. But why did they not ask the king? Surely he would have given them a little piece of land, enough to live upon.” With José, the king was the “Deus ex machina,” who was to solve every difficulty, and set right every wrong. “That is not the custom in Spain,” said Fray Fernando. “Nor do we think it the king’s business to provide for all his needy subjects.” “Then,” thought José, “_he_ assuredly is not the King who will deliver the poor when he crieth, the needy also, and him that hath no helper.” He asked aloud, “What, then, could they do?” Fray Fernando answered,—“Don Alfonso at length suggested a plan which seemed feasible. His sisters, at his request, obtained a place for Juanita as waiting-woman to a noble lady, who was both rich and liberal; so it was hoped that after a year or two spent in her service, Melchior’s bride would have something to call her own besides her velvet bodice and her silver ear-rings. Melchior, too, had his plans. He had already distinguished himself by coolness and daring in more than one bull-feast.—I have told you of the bull-feasts of Spain, José?”