ion; for at
such a time the attention of all the household would naturally be
directed towards him.

In this perplexity he was surprised by his faithful valet, who came in
the morning, according to custom, to receive his orders. Roque entered,
and was not a little surprised to observe his master's abstraction.

"Good morrow to you, Senor," said he, making an humble bow, and
advancing towards the musing cavalier; but Don Lope made no answer
whatever, nor did he take the slightest notice of his salutation.

"There!" continued Roque. "_Dios me bendiga!_[36] my precious master is
in a most thoughtful mood. I had always the power of rousing him from
his meditations, but now they appear too powerful for my humble
abilities." "Don Lope," he proceeded in a louder key, "good morning to
your honor," and he accompanied this Christian-like wish with as many
noisy demonstrations as were compatible with good order.

"Oh!" cried Don Lope, suddenly starting, "is it you, Roque?"

"The same, Sir, at your service," replied the obsequious valet.

"Curse thee!" returned his master, "why makest thou that noise?"

"Thank you, dear master, that is a most amiable morning salutation; it
augurs well too on a wedding-day."

"Pshaw! my wedding-day!" cried Gomez Arias, impatiently; and he again
relapsed into his train of reflection.

"Eh?" ejaculated Roque; "I wonder what is in the wind now; all is not
right, I perceive. Senor Don Lope, may I so far intrude on your most
important meditations, as to demand what has sent your wits a
wool-gathering so early in the morning: surely your dreams have not been
unpleasant--for my part I cannot bear terrible dreams; they are ominous,
particularly on the eve of a wedding----"

"Hold thy foolish chatter," interrupted Gomez Arias; "it is not a dream
that troubles me, but a reality, a most mortifying reality. Roque," he
then added in a more familiar tone, "I am involved in a labyrinth from
which it will be no easy matter to extricate myself."

"I am very sorry, good Senor; for my part, I can very well conceive that
a prudent man has cogent reasons to ponder and reflect more than a
philosopher, when he is on the point of being entangled in the labyrinth
of matrimony. Yes, Sir, I allow it is a most dangerous experiment: it is
a voyage menaced with all sorts of foul weather, and surrounded with
shoals, quicksands, and rocks, so that----"

"Roque, a truce with your cursed metaphors," cried Don Lope, "or