of his natural
courage, a shudder came over him as he heard the bars of his dungeon
door withdrawn, and the heavy bolts shot back into their sockets. The
next instant he closed his eyes, dazzled by a glare of light.

When he re-opened them, the Count, or Tadeo, whichever was his most
fitting appellation, stood before him. With the courage of pride and
despair, Federico boldly met his searching gaze. For some moments they
looked at each other in silence, broken at last by Tadeo.

"I come to question you," he said: "answer truly, and your captivity may
be very brief. Deceive me, and your life shall be yet shorter. Your
crimes shall meet their just reward."

"I am guilty of no crime," retorted Federico. "I am the victim of
circumstances."

"And what are they?" eagerly inquired the Count.

Federico was silent.

"Do you know me, Senor?" said the Count.

"No," was the reply.

"Beware, then, lest you learn to know me too well. What did you,
concealed in yonder closet? Where is the paper you robbed me of? Who
admitted you into the house? Do you belong to a secret society? Were you
sent as a spy? A dagger was found in the closet: did you come to
assassinate me?"

He paused after each question, but Federico answered none of them, save
the last, to which he replied by a stern negative. "You had best
confess," resumed Tadeo. "If you are no political offender, if no
criminal project led you where I found you, I pledge my word, Senor--and
I pledge it only to what I can and will perform--you shall at once be
released."

"I can say but this," replied the prisoner; "it was not my object to
overhear you: an accident conducted me where you discovered me, and I
heartily regret that a casual noise betrayed my presence."

"Is that all you will say?"

"All."

"You know not with whom you deal," cried the Count. Then, lowering his
voice, and with a smile that he strove to render amiable. "It was,
perhaps, a love-affair," he said. "Young man, which of Dona Rosaura's
handmaidens did you seek? Who introduced you into that apartment? Tell
me this, satisfy me on a point that concerns myself personally, and not
only will I forget all, but remain your debtor."

Whilst thus he spoke, the Count's features expressed very different
sentiments from those announced by his smooth and placable speech. In
their convulsive workings, and in the savage fire of his eyes, jealousy
and hatred were plainly to be read; he looked like a tiger about t