. His
shouting, "The _Lugarenos_ have risen!" broke upon the hush of mourning.
Father Antonio made a brusque movement, and Seraphina sent a startled
glance in my direction.

The cloistered court, with its marble basin and a jet of water in the
centre, remained empty for a moment after the negro had run across; a
growing clamour penetrated into it. In the midst of it I heard O'Brien's
voice saying, "Why don't they shut the gate?" Immediately afterwards a
woman in the gallery cried out in surprise, and I saw the _Lugarenos_
pour into the _patio_.

For a time that motley group of bandits stood in the light, as if
intimidated by the great dignity of the house, by the mysterious
prestige of the Casa whose interior, probably, none of them had
ever seen before. They gazed about silently, as if surprised to find
themselves there.

It looked as if they would have retired if they had not caught sight of
me. A murmur of "the _Inglez_" arose at once. By that time the household
negroes had occupied the staircase with what weapons they could find
upstairs.

Father Antonio pushed past O'Brien out of the room, and shook his arms
over the balustrade.

"Impious men," he cried, "begone from this house of death." His eyes
flashed at the ruffians, who stared stupidly from below.

"Give us the _Inglez_," they growled. Seraphina, from within, cried,
"Juan." I was then near the door, but not within the room.

"The _Inglez!_ The heretic! The traitor!" came in sullen, subdued
mutter. A hoarse, reckless voice shouted, "Give him to us, and we shall
go!"

"You are putting in danger all the lives in this house!" O'Brien hissed
at me. "Senorita, pray do not." He stood in the way of Seraphina, who
wished to come out.

"It is you!" she cried. "It is you! It is your voice, it is your hand,
it is your iniquity!"

He was confounded by her vehemence.

"Who brought him here?" he stammered. "Am I to find one of that accursed
brood forever in my way? I take him to witness that for your sake------"

A formidable roar, "Throw us down the _Inglez!_" filled the _patio_.
They were gaining assurance down there; and the ferocious clamouring of
the mob outside came faintly upon our ears.

O'Brien barred the way. Don Balthasar leaned on his daughter's arm--she
very straight, with tears still on her face and indignation in her eye,
he bowed, and with his immovable fine features set in the calmness of
age. Behind that group there were two priests, one