ower, they immediately hung it on a tree.
There they left him, and shortly after chance led them to the spot where
the hapless Theodora slept, forsaken by her unprincipled betrayer.

The flight of Roque, and the remarks she had heard from the Moors on the
night she was taken, led that unfortunate girl to believe that it was
her lover who had fallen a victim to the cruelty of those barbarians.
Thus she bitterly deplored the supposed death of him who was at the very
moment accomplishing the blackest deed of ingratitude.

Meanwhile Roque, instigated by fear, and retreating on the scent of
safety, shortly overtook his master, who was not a little surprised and
alarmed at the discomposure of his plans, when he perceived his valet
appear unaccompanied by Theodora.

"Where is Theodora?" demanded he hastily.

"I don't know," sullenly responded Roque; "probably in Heaven by this
time."

"What mean you, villain? didst thou forget my orders?"

"Certainly not, but when I was about to put them in practice, some
thousands of most desperate Moors came just in time to prevent my
laudable intentions. At first, bearing in mind the gallant master whom I
had the honor to serve, it was my determination to fight the unbelieving
rascals; but upon second thoughts, I discovered it would be more prudent
to yield to necessity, and since it was not in my power to save the
young lady from falling into their hands, I considered it laudable to
disappoint the rebels of one prisoner at least, whom they might perhaps
estimate as the most important of the two; and so, instead of making use
of my arms, I had recourse to my legs, which members, on more than one
occasion, I have found to be the most serviceable part of my poor self."

Gomez Arias mused for a moment upon the narration of his attendant, as
though calculating the probable consequences of the event. Even in spite
of the uneasiness which he pretended for the fate of Theodora, he could
hardly disguise from himself a species of latent satisfaction. The event
removed from his way the only impediment by which his ambitious designs
could be thwarted. Theodora, in the power of the Moors, would be even
more secure than in a convent, and Gomez Arias, without troubling
himself about the probable fate to which his lovely and too confiding
victim was exposed, continued his journey to Granada, drowning the
recollection of his misconduct in the glittering prospect that was now
opening before him.

T