t least, have dressed themselves," she whispered to Mrs.
Markham.

"I really believe," returned Mrs. Markham, "they've got no bodices on!"

The introductions over, a polyglot conversation ensued in French by the
Padre and Mrs. Brimmer, and in broken English by Miss Chubb, Miss Keene,
and the other passengers with the Commander's secretary, varied by
occasional scraps of college Latin from Mr. Crosby, the whole aided by
occasional appeals to Senor Perkins. The darkness increasing, the
party reentered the courtyard, and, passing through the low-studded
guard-room, entered another corridor, which looked upon a second
court, enclosed on three sides, the fourth opening upon a broad plaza,
evidently the public resort of the little town. Encompassing this open
space, a few red-tiled roofs could be faintly seen in the gathering
gloom. Chocolate and thin spiced cakes were served in the veranda,
pending the preparations for a more formal banquet. Already Miss Keene
had been singled out from her companions for the special attentions of
her hosts, male and female, to her embarrassment and confusion. Already
Dona Isabel, the sister of the Alcalde, had drawn her aside, and, with
caressing frankness, had begun to question her in broken English,--

"But Miss Keene is no name. The Dona Keene is of nothing."

"Well, you may call me Eleanor, if you like," said Miss Keene, smiling.

"Dona Leonor--so; that is good," said Dona Isabel, clapping her hands
like a child. "But how are you?"

"I beg your pardon," said Miss Keene, greatly amused, "but I don't
understand."

"Ah, Caramba! What are you, little one?" Seeing that her guest still
looked puzzled, she continued,--"Ah! Mother of God! Why are your friends
so polite to you? Why does every one love you so?"

"Do they? Well," stammered Miss Keene, with one of her rare, dazzling
smiles, and her cheeks girlishly rosy with naive embarrassment, "I
suppose they think I am pretty."

"Pretty! Ah, yes, you are!" said Dona Isabel, gazing at her curiously.
"But it is not all that."

"What is it, then?" asked Miss Keene demurely.

"You are a--a--Dama de Grandeza!"

CHAPTER VI.

"HAIL AND FAREWELL."

Supper was served in the inner room opening from the corridor lit by
a few swinging lanterns of polished horn and a dozen wax candles of
sacerdotal size and suggestion. The apartment, though spacious, was low
and crypt-like, and was not relieved by the two deep oven-like hearths
that