for, with his savings, this
would enable Pedro to have a share in her business as well as in her
happiness. So, once a month, Pedro invested a doubloon in
lottery-tickets; but, as he never succeeded in winning a prize, he
failed to wed the pretty tobacconist. Still, the young boatman continued
to drop anchor at the cigar-shop as often as his spare time would allow;
and as the fond couple always conducted themselves with the strictest
propriety, their engagement remained a secret.

Now Pedro Mantanez had a rival, and, to a certain extent, a formidable
one. The Count Almante was a noble of Spanish birth, and an officer by
profession. He was one of those fortunate gentlemen who, from no
inherent talent or acquired ability, had been sent from the
mother-country to enrich himself in her prosperous colony. Besides his
wealth, which report described as ill-gotten, he gloried in the
reputation of being a gay cavalier in Havana, and a great favourite with
the Creole ladies. It was his boast that no girl beneath him in station
had been yet known to reject any offer he might propose; and he would
sometimes lay wagers with his associates that the lady whom he had
newly honoured with his admiration would, at a given time, stand entered
in his book of amours as a fresh conquest. To achieve a particular
object, the count would never allow anything, human or otherwise, to
stand in his path; and by reason of his wealth, his nobility, and his
influence with the authorities, his crimes were numerous and his
punishments few, if any.

It happened that the last senorita who had taken Count Almante's fancy
was Miralda Estalez. The count spent many hours and many pesetas at the
pretty tobacconist's counter, where, we may be sure, he used his most
persuasive language to attain his very improper purpose. Accustomed to
have pretty things poured into her ears by a variety of admirers,
Miralda regarded the count's addresses with indifference; and, while
behaving with her wonted amiability of manner, gave him neither
encouragement nor motive for pressing his suit. One evening the count
lingered at the cigar-shop longer than custom allows, and, under the
pretence of purchasing and smoking more cigars, remained until the
neighbouring shops were closed and the streets were deserted. Alone with
the girl, and insured against intruders, Count Almante ventured to
disclose his unworthy passion. Amongst other things, he said:

'If you will love me and liv