ner of his reception, as he stepped up to
the table, and placed a roll of dollars upon a card.

"_No pueden._ It cannot be," replied the banker, pushing back the silver
with his wooden rake.

"It cannot be," echoed several of the players in the same short
contemptuous tone. "_Una sociedad con fuero._ A private and privileged
society."

"_Una sociedad con fuero!_" repeated the stranger, shaking his head.
"All due respect for _fueros_, so long as they are respected and
respectable. But know you not, Senores, that _our_ fuero is the older
one?"

"Thy fuero older, _gato_?" drawled one of the noblemen.

"Ay, truly is it. 'Tis the fuero of the carnival, and dates from the
time that Mother Church first fell into her dotage."

"Mother Church in her dotage! Knave, what mean ye?"

"Your Senorias need only look into the street to see what I mean. She
has practised folly till she has become a fool. 'Tis just like the
mother country, who has drunk Mexican blood till she has grown
bloodthirsty."

The young cavaliers became suddenly attentive.

"_Paz! Senor_;" said the banker, "such words are dangerous. Begone, in
God's name, and beware of the alguazils and the Cordelada."[12]

"_Paz!_" replied the stranger; "peace, do you say? Would you have peace
and quiet? They are no more to be found in Mexico. Quiet!" repeated he,
with a fiery enthusiasm in his voice and gesture, "you will have as
little of it as Pedrillo had--

"No rest by day
No sleep by night,
For poor Pedrillo,
The luckless wight."

And he broke, on a sudden, into the beautiful and piquant air of
Pedrillo, which he sang with a taste and spirit that made the assembled
cavaliers gaze at him open-mouthed. At the same moment, a guitar and
castanets were heard in the adjoining room, accompanying the song.

Either the charm of the surprise, or the originality of the individual
who thus appositely introduced this popular fragment from the
masterpiece of a favourite composer, produced an electrifying effect
upon the young noblemen. They sprang from their chairs, and, at the
conclusion of the song, a score of doubloons fell ringing at the feet of
the singer.

"_Otra vez!_ Encore, encore!" was the universal cry.

"Senorias," said the banker, who alone appeared dissatisfied at this
interruption, and now approached the stranger; "I warn you, Senorias! I
recognise in this _caballero_"--he spoke the word in an ironical and
depreciating tone--"the same _gentilh