ection against plague infection. The monk Teodoro was
proceeding to array himself in like manner, when Concha appeared beside
them and held out her hands for the gauntlets.

"The little Princess is asleep," she said eagerly; "I am strong. I have
as good a right to serve God as either of you--and as great is my need!"

The Basque gazed at her curiously. Her hair was still wholly covered by
the sailor's red cap. To the eye she appeared a mere boy in her page's
dress, but there was at all times something irresistibly attractive
about Concha's face. Now her lips quivered sensitively, but her eyes
were steady. She continued to hold out her hands.

"I demand that you permit me to serve God!" she cried to Brother
Teodoro.

The monk shrugged his shoulders with a pitying gesture and looked from
one to the other.

"I am an old dragoon," he said, "and under the guidons of _El Gran'
Lor'_ I have seen the like. It is none of my business, of course, but
all the same it is a pity. I should be happier to leave you watching the
slumbers of the Princess!"

"Ah!" cried Concha, earnestly, "if you are indeed an old soldier, and a
good one under guidon or holy cross--for this time let me be one also!"

"You are young--I pray you, think!" urged the Basque. "There is great
danger! Look at that maid yonder, and what she hath brought on herself."

"Ah," said Concha, softly--so softly indeed as to be almost
inaudible, "but the difference is that she did this thing for
hate--while--I--I----"

She did not finish her sentence, but raising her eyes, wet with
seldom-coming tears, to those of the stern-faced brother, she said
instead, "Give me the dress and let us be gone. The sun is rising!"

"If you are indeed determined, you shall have that of Brother Domingo,"
said Teodoro; "he was of little more than your height, and died, not of
the plague, but simply from doing his duty."

"Then let me die in no other way!" said Concha, putting it on as happily
as another maiden might dress for a ball.

These three went out to their terrible task, and as they were harnessing
the bullock cart once more and spreading a clean cloth over it, Rollo,
moved in his heart of hearts, came near. Never did two such lovers as
they meet more strangely arrayed. Yet he laid his black gauntlet across
her arm and whispered a word which Brother Teodoro did not hear, being,
as he took good care to be, much busied about the straps and
harnessings.

"I do not think th