d you stay? What if she sent a tender billet to the young
woman-hater, and said, 'Come and love me, if you have the heart and
courage of a man.' I think I see you then, though ten thousand devils
barred the way. Ciudad Real and the royal courts would soon be
forgotten."

"Perhaps," replied Federico. "But you tantalise me with
impossibilities."

Don Geronimo put on his hat, took his young friend's hand, and said with
great gravity,--"Nothing is impossible. And as regards love, nought in
this world can withstand it--no bolt, or lock, or bar, or rank, or
power. Bear that in mind, and be of good courage, if you again fall in
with her of the rose-coloured robe. I should not wonder if you saw her
this very night. Be happy whilst you may, whilst youth and beauty last.
They quickly pass, and never return; and in love be adventurous and
bold, like a true Spaniard and gallant gentleman. Daring wins the day."

He departed. Federico remained alone. With a smile at his friend's
advice, the young man sat down to study. But he soon started up, and
gazed like one in a dream at the massive volumes encumbering his table.
He knew not how it happened, but the well-known letters of the alphabet
seemed changed into inexplicable hieroglyphics. The simplest passages
were wholly unintelligible; the paragraphs were all rose-coloured; black
locks and brilliant eyes twined and sparkled through the quaint
arabesques and angular capitals that commenced each chapter of the code,
confusing and dazzling his brain. At last he angrily slammed the
parchment-bound volume, muttered a curse on his own folly, then laughed
aloud at the recollection of that comical old fellow, Geronimo Regato,
and went to bed. There he found little rest. When he closed his eyes,
the slender form of the incognita glided before them. Her white hand,
extended from beneath her mantilla, beckoned him to follow; nay, he felt
the pressure of the tiny fingers, her warm breath upon his cheek, her
velvet lips gently laid to his. And when he started from his sleep, it
was to fancy the rustle of a dress, and a sweet low voice that timidly
uttered his name. So passed the night, and only towards daybreak did he
sink into a sounder and more refreshing slumber. But when he arose, he
found, to his consternation, that she who had haunted his dreams was
equally present to his waking imagination. The fascinating image of the
beautiful stranger had established itself in his heart, and Federico
f