ke, and what you
would like, you can't get."

"Possible," replied Federico smiling. "I strike high."

"And why not? To dare is often to succeed. For the bold and the prudent,
no aim is too lofty. But tell me more."

"Nonsense!" cried the student. "I did but jest. It occurred to me that
this very day I saw a lady whose fair face I shall not easily forget.
She was richly dressed, and sat in an open carriage, drawn by
magnificent horses."

"What colour was the carriage?"

"Brown, lined with purple velvet. The arms on the panels were supported
by coroneted griffins; and on the luxurious cushions my goddess
reclined, in a robe of rose-coloured satin. A black lace mantilla
floated over her alabaster shoulders, further veiled by a cloud of
glossy ebon hair; and her eyes, friend Geronimo--her beauteous eyes,
were soft and heavenly as a spring day in the almond groves of
Valencia."

"You are poetical," said Regato. "A good sign. Federico, you are in
love; but, by our Lady, you are audacious in your choice."

"Do you know her?" eagerly exclaimed Federico.

"Did she appear to notice you?" inquired Geronimo, leaving the question
unanswered.

"Paralysed by her exceeding beauty," replied the student, "I stood dumb
and motionless in the carriage-way, and was nearly run over. I sprang
aside, but just in time. She observed me, and smiled: I almost think she
blushed. One thing I am sure of, she could not help seeing that her
wondrous beauty had turned my head."

"And that is all?" said Regato, slyly.

"What more could there be?" cried the young lawyer, indignantly. "Would
you have such an angel throw flowers at me, or appoint a rendezvous?
When the carriage turned out of the street towards the Prado, she looked
back. Holy Mother of Sorrows! even at that distance, the sunshine of
those eyes scorched my very heart!--But this is folly, sheer folly! Next
week I go to Ciudad Real, and amongst dusty deeds and dry folios I shall
soon forget eyes and their owner."

Senor Regato assumed a thoughtful countenance, took a large pinch of
snuff, and lit a fresh cigar. After three or four puffs, emitted through
his nostrils with the delectation of a veteran smoker, he broke silence.

"You will not go to Ciudad Real."

"And why not?" cried Federico.

"Because, if I am not greatly mistaken, you will remain here."

"Strange if I do!" laughed the student.

"Less so, perhaps, than you imagine. Would you go if the rose-coloured
lady bi