dows, the murmur of voices, echo of
laughter, weeping of tears.

And now, dim and vapoury, a brilliant pair appeared in tender proximity
to each other. His arm encircled her waist, her fair white hand rested
with fond appropriation upon his doublet. The love-look in her eyes was
only equalled by the fervour and constancy of his. Yet sadness
predominated, for it was a farewell interview. She was the last daughter
of the ducal house, last of her race. They were betrothed and the course
of true love had run smooth. But now he was bidden fight for his country
and would depart at daybreak.

He never lived to return, but died on the battlefield. Within his gloved
hand was found a golden tress tightly clasped, and next his heart a
small miniature of his beautiful betrothed. Both were buried with him.
She soon faded and declined, and found him again in a Land where wars
and partings are unknown. House and name became extinct. As we thought
of this, suddenly the staircase seemed full of sighs, lights grew dim.

We passed on and found the hotel empty and deserted. Every one had gone
to bed and left the long gloomy corridors to silence and the ghosts. We
lighted candles and H. C. led the way through the labyrinth to our
rooms. Windows were open and the two old watchmen below were just where
we had left them, apparently still gazing at the doorway through which
we had disappeared.

_"El sereno!"_ cried he. "Call your hours and guard the city. Enemies
lurk in secret corners."

They looked up and wished us good night. We were not marauders after
all. So they separated with easy conscience, and from opposite ends of
the street we heard them announce the time and weather.

It was hardly necessary, for another watchman rang out with iron tongue.
Midnight slowly tolled over the town from all the churches. Impossible
to believe an hour had passed since we stood at the top of that vast
flight of steps overlooking the darkness. How had we sauntered back?
Where had the moments flown? One grows absorbed in these night visions,
dark shadows and outlines, and time passes unconsciously. We counted the
strokes, listened to the vibrations, and then H. C. went off to his own
regions. The watchmen were all very well in their way, but for his part
an open window and a love serenade--such as we had been favoured with in
Toledo--had greater charms. To-night passionate appeals and the melody
of the lute were sought in vain. Every window was closed