ep
intruders from entering the precincts of the garden.

This bridge was not over three hundred yards from the copse in which
Carlos had halted, and nothing intervened but the darkness to prevent
him from having a view of it. However, as the moon was still up, he
could distinctly see the tall posterns, and light-coloured palings of
the gate, glimmering in her light. The stream he could not see--as at
this point it ran between high banks--and the garden itself was hidden
from view by the grove of cotton-woods and china-trees growing along its
bottom.

After arriving in the copse Carlos dismounted; and having led his horse
into the darkest shadow of the trees, there left him. He did not tie
him to anything, but merely rested the bridle over the pommel of the
saddle, so that it might not draggle upon the ground. He had long ago
trained the noble animal to remain where he was placed without other
fastening than this.

This arrangement completed, he walked forward to the edge of the
underwood, and there stood with his eyes fixed upon the bridge and the
dark grove beyond it. It was not the first time for him to go through
all the manoeuvres here described--no, not by many--but, perhaps, on no
other occasion were his emotions so strong and strange as on the
present.

He had prepared himself for the interview he was now expecting--he had
promised himself a frankness of speech his modesty had never before
permitted him to indulge in--he had resolved on proposals--the rejection
or acceptance of which might determine his future fate. His heart beat
within his breast so as to be audible to his own ears.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Perfect stillness reigned through the town. The inhabitants had all
retired to their beds, and not a light appeared from door or window.
All were close shut and fast bolted. No one appeared in the streets,
except the half-dozen "serenos" who formed the night-watch of the place.
These could be seen muffled up in their dark cloaks, sitting half
asleep on the banquetas of houses, and grasping in one hand their huge
halberds, while their lanterns rested upon the pavement at their feet.

Perfect stillness reigned around the mansion of Don Ambrosio. The
great gate of the zaguan was closed and barred, and the portero had
retired within his "lodge," thus signifying that all the inmates of the
dwelling had returned home. If silence denoted sleep, all