Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 5).djvu/306
pardon me, Don Carlos. Being stationed some few miles from here, I asked for leave of absence this morning to jom some troops which (pardon me) are going to make a raid upon this very village this morning. But, thanks to my foolhardiness in starting off alone, I soon found myself in the hands of guerillas. I escaped. They pursued me. But I, though alone in a strange country and unarmed, led them a nice dance for half an hour. I was just about to fall again into their hands when I came in sight of this house. I duped them by my ruse of pitching my voice in such a manner as to lead them to think I was beyond the village, whilst I at the same time took refuge here. To conclude, my worthy fellow, no doubt the guerillas are not blind, and not finding any trace of me upon the route, will return to Panola. Consequently, if you are a host to my liking you will"
"Conceal you," said Stephano, quickly. "You are right!" and he glanced round with uneasiness. The lieutenant struck him on the shoulder. "One minute," he said; "the guerillas cannot reappear for half an hour. This little expedition, as you may imagine, was not my only motive for coming to Panola, and I must again abuse your patience in asking you somec questions upon a certain subject which is the motive of my expedition."
"Go on," replied Stephano, with resignation.
"I came here to look for a young girl," said the Frenchman, twisting his moustache, "and as, perhaps, you will be so good as to give me some information on this point, it would be better for you to know the story. Last year my regiment, after a vigorous resistance, entered a village in Navarre."
"A village in Navarre?" repeated Stephano, and his brow darkened.
"One house had been so well defended, indeed, that it was found necessary to surround it, and our infuriated soldiers, drunk with carnage, determined to massacre everyone within. I luckily surprised them as they drew their sabres upon two poor old creatures and their young daughter. I threw myself between the victims and their butchers; the wretches turned upon me and I fell wounded by a bayonet thrust, but they were saved. The kind people who owed me their lives bore me to their house, and gave me every care. The young girl watched at my bedside for more than a fortnight. Briefly—the beauty, the tenderness of the little girl, won my heart. Losing no time, I declared my passion. She whispered, blushing, that I might speak to her parents. As soon as I was well enough to walk, I hastened to the worthy old man, who, after the shock he had received, became mortally ill and felt his end approach. I had no sooner asked him for his daughter's hand than he exclaimed, 'God be praised! O shall not now die without having recompensed our deliverer.' At the same time he took the young girl's hand and mine, and, after making us exchange rings, clasped them together. Then he stretched forth his trembling hands above our heads to bless us, whilst on our knees by the bedside we swore eternal fidelity to dach other. Three days after the good man died, and the same day my regiment left for Castile. Seven months passed without my hearing any news from my betrothed, and it was only by chance I learned that on her mother's death she had quitted Navarre to take up her abode in her uncle's house at Panola.
"But what is the matter?" said the lieutenant, as Stephano rose hurriedly.
"I know enough," replied the young man in a hollow voice. "The village was "Tafalla, and the young girl's name is Rosita."
"But what is there in that?" cried the lieutenant, who understood nothing of Stephano's emotion. "You know Rosita? She is here? You are silent. Heavens! Is she dead—or married?"
"No, no," rephied Stephano, with an effort. "Rosita is here. No doubt she loves you and watches for your return with impatience."
"Where, then, shall I find my betrothed?"
Stephano was about to reply to this question when the tramp of horses was heard. It was the troop returning.
"Softly!" whispered Dulaurier as he crept towards the window. "Yes, these are my friends. Where will you hide me?"
Stephano regarded him with a savage gleam in his eyes and muttered to himself, "This man comes here to blast my happiness, and I must protect his life at the peril of my own."
"What am I to do?" repeated Dulaurier.
"Take this dagger," said Stephano, "put on your mantle and follow me." He unfastened a little door which opened upon a staircase which led into the garden, and descended, followed by Dulaurier. They stole along behind a thick hedge of hawthorn until they came to the trees of a little orchard, from which rose the roof of a ruined summer-house. On reaching this spot