home, impatiently expecting him, Geronimo came not. Never had the
student been so out of temper. He bitterly reproached himself as a
dreamer, a fool, an idiot; and yet there he remained, his thoughts fixed
upon one object, his eyes riveted on the almond blossom, which he had
placed in water, and whose delicate cup, now fully open, emitted a
delightful perfume. And as he gazed, fancy played her wildest pranks
with the enamoured youth. Small fairy-like creatures glided and danced
between the dusty stamina of the graceful flower. At times, its leaves
seemed partly to close, and from out the contracted aperture, the lady
of his thoughts smiled sweetly upon him. Then the welcome vision
vanished, and was succeeded by stern frowning faces of men, armed from
head to heel, who levelled daggers at his heart.

"By St Jago!" the bewildered student at last exclaimed, "this is too
much. When will it end? What ails me? Have I so long withstood the
fascinations of the black-eyed traitresses, to be thus at last entrapped
and unmanned? Geronimo was right; at daybreak, I start for Ciudad Real.
I will think no more of that perilous syren." He plucked the almond
blossom from its vase. "And this flower," he pensively murmured, "has
touched her hand, perhaps her lips! Oh! were it possible that she loves
me!" As he spoke, he pressed the flower so impetuously to his mouth,
that its tender leaves were crushed and tarnished. He laughed
scornfully. "Thus is it," he exclaimed, "with woman's love; as fair and
as fragile as this poor blossom. Begone, then! Wither, and become dust,
thou perishable emblem of frailty!" Approaching the open window, he was
about to throw away the flower, when something flew into the room,
struck his breast, and rolled upon the ground. Federico started back,
and his eye fell upon the clock that regulated his studies. The hands
were on the stroke of midnight, and for a moment, in his then excited
state, a feeling of superstitious fear stole over him. The next instant
he was again at the window, straining his eyes through the gloom. He
could see nothing. The night was dark: a few large stars twinkled in the
sable canopy, the jasmin bushes in his balcony rustled in the breeze,
and brushed their cool leaves against his heated temples. "Who is
there?" he cried. His question was unanswered. Closing the _jalousies_,
he took a light and sought about the room till he perceived something
white under a table. It was a paper wrapped r