Huguenots put to torture, and an auto da fé in perspective?" 66 Ha, ha! No-our Holy Inquisition was not instituted then. But had the Egyptians known of the thumb-screw, or the scavenger's daughter, they would have made all the Jews worshippers of Isis. However, will you listen to the description of my goddess?" "Woman again. Alas! your weakness has no bounds. Let me finish my dispatch, and I will listen to your last adventure, profligate!!" Ay, profligate and roué was the Count Alcantara—a perfect contrast to his son. dissipated the other virtuous. The one doubt, the arduous care of old Herrera, the constant companion and faithful friend, to whom Fernando was indebted, that he did not imitate the Count's vices, nor practise them. The Count was a man of talent, and notwithstanding his love for pleasure, he was a thorough diplomate—one of Alba's favourites, and considered by him an able coadjutant for the cause of Spain. For these motives, both Philip and the Duke overlooked his foibles, and em ployed him in missions of the most delicate and difficult nature. He was a linguist, and could at pleasure pass himself as a Gaul, a Teuton, or an Ausonian. Thus, as a French Huguenot, under the assumed name of Montalvan, he dis. covered important secrets. And little did Fernando suppose, that he was to conclude what his father had commenced, and that his parent, under his assumed name, was his rival. Whilst Lodrona was drawing his report to a conclusion, Alcantara bad opened a window that looked on the Grande Place, and leaning out of it, whistled the Bolero-hummed the Cachuca-and watched the masons working at the spire, now fast drawing to its completion. The sight of that beautiful steeple reminded him of the elegant girl he had rescued. He thought of Love-of its joys-its hardships-its annoyances-and its gratifications! “O!" sighed he, muttering, half aloud—“O, how often is the toilsomeness of Love lost by us. "At me ab amore tuo deducet nulla senectus, VOL. II. "Oh, oh!" exclaimed Lodrona, who had heard his quotation-" So you do complain of the unceasing vexations of lovers." Why, Amos-it shot across my mind. And, after all that I have undergone, you no doubt are surprised, notwithstanding my foibles, and my love for those dear creatures, that I hesitate, ere again throwing myself headlong into Love's trap." "I have often wondered how you extricate yourself. But experience cannot teach you, for again you are about to fling yourself down another precipice." "Have you a heart, Amos? Have you any feeling left? I doubt it." "And have you forgotten the past? Turn over Time's journal, and you will see written down there, that Amos Lodrona loved-ay, with fervency! Peradventure, you will not be able to decypher the writing, as my tears may have blotted it out. Now, fickle woman has turned my heart to stone. And as you quoted Propertius on hardships, hear what he says on the fickleness of woman. "Non sic incerto mutantur flamine Syrtes, "Pish! the author of those lines was like yourself, as fickle as the sex he calumniates. The poetical knight wrote them in a fit of illhumour, and you splenetically repeat them. Go to, Amos, go to!" "Talk of yourself," replied Lodrona, out of humour-" truly you are as changeable as the wind, and vary the objects of your love as often as I do my raiment." "Strange comparison ! Disappointments, however, cause men to hate what they once cherished. Nothing now is left to you but to grumble at woman. Growl on, good Amos, until you reach your second childhood—then, perhaps, you may, as I do now, adore again." "Never!" "I say you will!-but to return to this girl." "Ah! another victim." "What mean you?" "Do I not know you of old, as a selfish deceiver? I suppose, ere long, I shall hear of your having stolen the bird from its mother's nest." "Hum!-I cannot now say what my intentions are. Peradventure, if she love me, I may make her my wife, yet-I am averse to the marriage ceremony,—and even you must confess that it is a great drawback for a man to pledge eternal fidelity at the altar, when pretty certain that the vow will not be kept." "Well, I hope the affections of the lady are already engaged! It is folly "Folly, or not folly, I cannot explain to you the interest I feel in Dolores. A something draws me towards her. The moment I heard her voice, it rang sweetly on my ears-the instant I caught a glimpse of her features, II-no matter," said he, after a pause, woe betide the man who crosses my path!" 66 |