e than
embarrassing. With their angry passions roused to such a pitch, it must
end in a personal encounter.

Her duty is clear. She is mistress of the house, representing her
father, who is absent. The English officers are there by invitation.
At thought of this she no longer hesitates.

"Not now, Don Francisco de Lara," she says, replying to his question;
"not to-day. I must beg of you to excuse me."

"Indeed!" rejoins he sneeringly. "Will it be deemed discourteous in me
to ask why I am denied?"

It is discourteous; and so Dona Carmen deems it. Though she does not
tell him as much in words, he can take it from her rejoinder.

"You are quite welcome to know the reason. We have an engagement!"

"Oh! an engagement!"

"Yes, sir, an engagement," she repeats, in a tone telling of irritation.
"Those gentlemen you see are our guests. My father has invited them to
spend the day with us."

"Ah! your father has invited them! How very good of Don Gregorio
Montijo, extending his hospitality to _gringos_! And Dona Carmen has
added her kind compliments with earnest entreaties for them to come, no
doubt?"

"Sir!" says Carmen, no longer able to conceal her indignation, "your
speech is impertinent--insulting. I shall listen to it no longer."

Saying which, she steps back, disappearing behind the parapet--where
Inez has already concealed herself, at the close of a similar short, but
stormy, dialogue with Calderon.

De Lara, a lurid look in his eyes, sits in his saddle as if in a stupor.
He is roused from it by a voice, Crozier's, saying:

"You appear anxious to make apology to the lady? You can make it to
_me_."

"_Caraji_!" exclaims the gambler, starting, and glaring angrily at the
speaker. "Who are you?"

"One who demands an apology for your very indecorous behaviour."

"You'll not get it."

"Satisfaction, then."

"That to your heart's content."

"I shall have it so. Your card, sir?"

"There; take it. Yours?"

The bits of cardboard are exchanged; after which De Lara, casting
another glance up to the _azotea_--where he sees nothing but blank
wall--turns his horse's head; then spitefully plying the spur, gallops
back down the avenue--his comrade close following.

Calderon has not deemed it incumbent upon him to demand a card from
Cadwallader. Nor has the latter thought it necessary to take one from
him; the mid is quite contented with that playful prod with his dirk.

The young officers enter