her, wearing my great coat, and
with a sword for my only weapon. I found Nina with her sister, a woman of
thirty-six or thereabouts, who was married to an Italian dancer,
nicknamed Schizza, because he had a flatter nose than any Tartar.

Nina had just been supping with her lover, who had left her at ten
o'clock, according to his invariable custom.

She said she was delighted to hear I had been to dinner with him, as she
had herself spoken to him in my praise, saying how admirably I had kept
her company at Valentia.

"I am glad to hear it, but I do not think you are wise in inviting me to
your house at such late hours."

"I only do so to avoid scandal amongst my neighbours."

"In my opinion my coming so late is only likely to increase the
probability of scandal, and to make your viceroy jealous."

"He will never hear of your coming."

"I think you are mistaken."

I went away at midnight, after a conversation of the most decent
character. Her sister did not leave us for a moment, and Nina gave her no
cause to suspect the intimacy of our relations.

I went to see her every evening, without encroaching on the count's
preserves. I thought myself secure, but the following warning should have
made me desist if I had not been carried away by the forces of destiny
and obstinacy in combination.

An officer in the Walloon Guards accosted me one day as I was walking by
myself just outside the town. He begged me in the most polite manner to
excuse him if he spoke on a matter which was indifferent to him but of
great consequence to me.

"Speak, sir," I replied, "I will take whatever you say in good part."

"Very good. You are a stranger, sir, and may not be acquainted with our
Spanish manners, consequently you are unaware of the great risk you run
in going to see Nina every evening after the count has left her."

"What risk do I run? I have no doubt that the count knows all about it
and does not object."

"I have no doubt as to his knowing it, and he may possibly pretend to
know nothing before her, as he fears as well as loves her; but if she
tells you that he does not object, she either deceives herself or you. He
cannot love her without being jealous, and a jealous Spaniard . . .

"Follow my advice, sir, and forgive my freedom."

"I am sincerely obliged to you for your kind interest in me, but I cannot
follow your advice, as by doing so I should be wanting in politeness to
Nina, who likes to see me and gives me a