with marks of the strongest interest. Now he nodded his head, then beat
the ground with his heel, or threw back his cloak and gesticulated with
his arms. When he heard what the Count had said of him and of his
probable fate, he laughed heartily. "Bah!" said he; "threatened men live
long. I have had hotter broth cooked for me, and cooled it with my
breath. I hope to die in my bed, like a good Christian; and as for my
chance of a rope, I would not change with his Excellency. The infernal
schemer! I'll pay him off now. _Madre de todas gracias!_ had we but the
list of the conspirators, what a blow might be struck!"

"The list!" repeated Federico. "Stay, let me remember!" and, plunging
his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a torn paper. "When I threw the
man down, this remained sticking between my waistcoat and neckcloth,
where he had grappled me. I noticed it when I got outside, and thrust it
into my pocket."

Without listening to this explanation, Geronimo seized the paper, and,
by the light of a lamp under the portal, examined it with eager
curiosity. At sight of its contents, a savage joy sparkled in his eye.

"Ah, _maldito!_" he exclaimed with a laugh of triumph; "we have you now.
Federico, the rose-coloured lady is ten times more surely yours, than if
you had remained in the closet and his Excellency had not discovered
you. Follow, and be silent. Whatever happens, not a word till I bid you;
then speak boldly, and tell what you know."

Through winding corridors, up and down stairs, along galleries where
sentries stood like statues, Geronimo led the way, until he reached a
room whose door was opened by a gigantic lackey in the gaudy royal
livery. Federico, who followed close upon his heels, suddenly found
himself in the presence of a number of men, for the most part elderly
and of grave respectable aspect, who stood in small knots about the
apartment, or sat at tables on which were wine and refreshments,
conversing in a low tone. Amongst these a hum of interest arose on
Regato's entrance; and under cover of the attention he attracted, his
companion passed unnoticed.

It at once flashed upon Federico, that he had penetrated into that
notorious Camarilla or secret council of King Ferdinand VII., so much
spoken of, so often cursed and scoffed at, so greatly feared, and justly
hated. This was the cringing and pernicious conclave, of whose vile
proceedings so many tales were told; these were the men, of all ranks
and