ow."

"Go, in Heaven's keeping," said Tio Pedro.

"And never let us see you again," added La Zandunga, whose sentiments
towards Benito had undergone an entire change in the last few months.

"May I not see her to say good-bye?"

"No, you would only agitate her."

"Do not be so cruel. I implore you to let me speak to her."

"Be off!" said the old woman, angrily. "You are importunate and
ill-bred."

"I will not go; I will see her first."

"Put him out, Pedro; by force, if he will not go quietly."

Tio Pedro rose rather reluctantly and advanced towards Benito.

"Hands off!" cried the young man, savagely striking at Pedro.

"What! You dare!" said the other furiously. "I am not too old to deal
with such a stripling. Begone, I say, quicker than that!" and Tio
Pedro pushed Benito towards the door.

There was a struggle, but it was of short duration. Within a few
seconds Benito was ejected into the street.

By-and-by, when the coast was clear, and Mariquita felt safe from the
intrusion of the man she loathed, she came out into the shop.

By this time the place was quiet. Tio Pedro had gone off to a
neighbouring wine-shop to exaggerate his recent prowess, and La
Zandunga sat alone behind the counter.

"Where is Benito? Has he gone?" asked Mariquita, nervously.

"Yes. Did he frighten my sweet bird?" said her aunt, soothing her.
"He is an indecent, ill-mannered rogue, and we shall be well rid of
him."

"Well rid of him? He really leaves us, then? For the Crimea?"

"You have guessed it. Yes. He thinks there is a chance of finding
fortune there."

Was that his only reason? Mariquita put her hand upon her heart, which
had almost ceased beating. She was sick with apprehension. Did not
Benito's departure forebode evil for her lover?

Just then her eye fell upon a piece of crumpled paper lying on the
floor--part of a letter, it seemed. Almost mechanically--with no
special intention at least--she stooped to pick it up.

"What have you got there?" asked her aunt.

"A letter."

"It must be Benito's; he probably dropped it in the scuffle. Do you
know that he dared to raise his hand against my worthy husband?"

"If it is Benito's I have no desire to touch it," said Mariquita,
disdainfully.

"Throw it into the yard, then," said her aunt.

Mariquita accordingly went to the back door and out into the garden,
round which she walked listlessly, once or twice, forgetting what she
held in her hand.

Then she look