you into the arms of a ruined
prodigal, who has no other aim than to build up the fortune he has
squandered in dissipation, and satisfy his ambitious desires? Say,
Rosarita, say! is this will in consonance with your own? Does your
heart agree to it? If it is not, and there is the least compulsion upon
you, how happy should I be to contest for you with this rival. Ah! you
do not make answer--you love him, Rosarita? And I--Oh! why did they not
leave me to die upon the road?"

At this moment a slight rustling was heard in the grove of oranges,
where Don Estevan and Cuchillo were crouching in concealment.

"Hush!" said the young girl, "did you not hear a noise?"

Tiburcio turned himself quickly, his eye on fire, his heart beating
joyfully with the hope of having some one upon which to vent the
terrible anger that tortured it--but the rays of the moon shone only
upon the silvery foliage--all was quiet around.

He then resumed his gloomy and pensive attitude. Sadness had again
taken possession of his soul, through which the quick burst of anger had
passed as lightning though a sombre sky.

"Very likely," said he, with a melancholy smile, "it is the spirit of
some poor lover who has died from despair."

"Santisima Virgen!" exclaimed Rosarita, making the sign of the cross.
"You make me afraid, Tiburcio. Do you believe that one could die of
love?" she inquired in a tone of _naivete_.

"It may be," replied Tiburcio, with a sad smile still playing upon his
lips. Then changing his tone, he continued, "Hear me, Rosarita! you are
ambitious, you have said so--hear me then! Supposing I could give you
all that has been promised you? hitherto I have preferred to plead the
cause of Tiburcio poor and an orphan; I shall now advocate that of
Tiburcio Arellanos on the eve of becoming rich and powerful; noble too I
shall become--for I shall make myself an illustrious name and offer it
to you."

As he said these words the young man raised his eyes towards heaven: his
countenance exhibited an altered expression, as if there was revived in
his soul the pride of an ancient race.

For the first time since the commencement of the interview, Tiburcio was
talking sensibly, and the daughter of Eve appeared to listen with more
attention than what she had hitherto exhibited.

Meanwhile the two spies were also listening attentively from their
hiding-place among the oranges. Not a word of what was said, not a
gesture escaped them. T