s
here with her brother the same day, on their way to Paris."

It flashed through Paul's mind that the last time he had seen her was
in the company of the Briones. It was not a pleasant coincidence. Yet
he was not aware that it had affected him, until he saw the colonel
watching him.

"I believe you don't fancy the brother," said Pendleton.

For an instant Paul was strongly tempted to avow his old vague
suspicions of Don Caesar, but the utter hopelessness of reopening the
whole subject again, and his recollection of the passage in Pendleton's
letter that purported to be Yerba's own theory of his dislike, checked
him in time. He only said, "I don't remember whether I had any cause
for disliking Don Caesar; I can tell better when I see him again," and
changed the subject. A few moments later the colonel summoned George
from some lower region of the hotel, and rose to take his leave. "Miss
Arguello, with her maid and courier, will occupy her old suite of rooms
here," he remarked, with a return of his old imperiousness. "George
has given the orders for her. I shall not change my present lodgings,
but of course will call every day. Goodnight!"

CHAPTER VI.

The next morning Paul could not help noticing an increased and even
exaggerated respect paid him by the hotel attendants. He was asked if
his EXCELLENCY would be served with breakfast in a private room, and
his condescension in selecting the public coffee-room struck the
obsequious chamberlain, but did not prevent him from preceding Paul
backwards to the table, and summoning a waiter to attend specially upon
"milor." Surmising that George and the colonel might be in some way
connected with this extravagance, he postponed an investigation till he
should have seen them again. And, although he hardly dared to confess
it to himself, the unexpected prospect of meeting Yerba again fully
preoccupied his thoughts. He had believed that he would eventually see
her in Europe, in some vague and indefinite way and hour: it had been
in his mind when he started from California. That it would be so soon,
and in such a simple and natural manner, he had never conceived.

He had returned from his morning walk to the Brunnen, and was sitting
idly in his room, when there was a knock at the door. It opened to a
servant bearing a salver with a card. Paul lifted it with a slight
tremor, not at the engraved name of "Maria Concepcion de Arguellos de
la Yerba Buena," but a