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DISAPPEARANCE OF THE SPANIARD.
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fore going to sleep, perhaps you would like to hear an air on my mandolin."

"Use your freedom, but pray pardon me if the melody set me asleep."

In spite of the hard and cold couch on which I was reclining, in a short time I heard nothing but a confused murmur of broken notes, and then consciousness forsook me. I awoke with a start, under the impression that a strong chilling draught was setting full upon me. The long, thin candle which had been stuck to the wall of the chamber was throwing its last dull, smoky glare around. The Spaniard had disappeared. I was alone; and the chamber door, which had been left open, had allowed the cold night air to enter and awake me. A dead silence reigned through the hacienda, broken only by the distant crowing of the cock. I listened, surprised at the abrupt disappearance of my companion, and rose and shut the door, and, while doing so, threw a hasty glance into the court-yard. From amid the darkness I thought I discerned two black profiles half hidden by a column. One of them was that of the Biscayan, whose voice I could distinguish, although he spoke low; the other was unknown to me; but in the sweet tone, and in the accents, though prudently concealed, I could not doubt for a moment but that it was a woman. I had seen enough. I repaired to the door and pushed it open. At the grating of the rusty hinges, a slender form disappeared like a shadow behind a distant pillar. The Biscayan came up quickly to me.

"No apologies," said he; "you have, without knowing it, made yourself master of a secret which would have been yours sooner or later. It is better,