"You will be as valiant as the Cid," said Dolores, looking tenderly at Jack from behind her black fan. "With you to smile on me, I can scarcely be a coward," he replied, in a low tone so as not to reach the vigilant ears of the duenna. "I will ask His Excellency for a commission in your cousin's regiment." "And you also, Don Felipe," said Eulalia, vivaciously. "El Regimiento del Caballeros is the finest in the army. You would look so well in the uniform." She flashed a bewitching look at Philip, which sent that young man's blood spinning through his veins. He had quite given up fighting against his fate, and was fathoms deep in love. Doña Eulalia could use her eyes with great effect, and Philip had now surrendered at discretion. It is only fair to say that the victress took no undue advantage of her conquest. Indeed, Philip did not know yet if she returned his love. Eulalia was a born coquette, and he was terribly afraid lest she should be only amusing herself. This enlistment in the army might clinch the matter, and induce her to smile on his suit. "For your sake, I will play the bear," he whispered, alluding to a foolish custom of the Cholacacans whereby a young man walks up and down in front of the window of his beloved like a bear. "No; I do not care for you to play the bear, Señor. Fight in the regiment of my brother, and when you return victorious--well, who knows?" Philip looked, Eulalia smiled significantly. They thoroughly understood one another, in spite of Doña Serafina and the restrictions of Cholacacan courtship. Eyes can speak as eloquently as can tongues, and are quite as intelligible--to the initiated. "Kismet!" muttered Philip, as he went off the parade-ground with the ladies and his friends; "it is, written." "What is written?" asked Peter, who was always overhearing what was not meant for his ears. "Your marriage to Doña Serafina," laughed Philip, promptly; whereat the doctor shook his head. "A man can't marry his grandmother." Philip said no more; but returned to the side of Doña Eulalia, who had placed herself as far away from her duenna as was possible. This precaution was scarcely needed, as Doña Serafina had eyes for no one but Peter. She had not yet given up all hope of marriage, even at the mature age of five and forty. Peter was young and innocent; therefore Doña Serafina selected him as her victim, and under the guise of teaching him Spanish, strove to entangle him in her elderly meshes. Her eyes were still brilliant, and long experience had taught her how to use them. It was so much waste time as regards Peter. He was so impossible.