covered his face; but he immediately recovered himself.
"That question again, unhappy girl?" he said, in a gloomy voice; "Do not trifle with my wrath by reminding me of your crime, and the dishonour of my house."
At these words the girl drew herself up suddenly, and with a hurried gesture pulled off the velvet mask that covered her face.
"I am not guilty," she said, in a haughty voice, and looking her father in the face; "and you are perfectly aware of it, for it was you who introduced the Count de Barmont to me. You encouraged our love, and it was by your orders that we were secretly married. You dare not assert the contrary."
"Silence, wretch!" the traveller exclaimed, and rose passionately.
"Father!" the two gentlemen, who had hitherto remained motionless and as if strangers to this stormy interview, exclaimed, as they threw themselves before him.
"Well," he said, as he resumed his seat, "I will restrain myself: I will only ask you one further question, Doña Clara – will you obey me?"
She hesitated for a moment, and then appeared to form a supreme resolution.
"Listen to me, my father," she replied, in a hurried though firm voice; "you told me yourself that the moment for an explanation between us had arrived; very well, let us have this explanation. I, too, am your daughter, and jealous of the honour of our house; that is why I insist on your answering me without equivocation or deception."
While speaking thus, the young lady, who was only sustained by the factitious strength sorrow imparted to her, for she was frail and delicate, was supremely beautiful; with her body bent back, her head haughtily raised, her long and silky black hair falling in disorder on her shoulders, and contrasting with the marble pallor of her face; with her large eyes, inflamed by fever and inundated with tears, that slowly coursed down her cheeks, and with her bosom heaving from the emotion that held mastery over her – there was about her whole person something deathly, which seemed no longer to belong to the earth.
Her father felt involuntarily affected, in spite of his ferocious pride; and it was with a less rough voice he replied —
"I am listening to you."
"Father," she resumed, leaning her hand on the back of her chair in order to support herself, "I told you that I am not guilty, and I repeat that the Count de Barmont and myself were secretly united in the church of la Merced at Cadiz, and were so by your orders. As you know it, I will not dwell further on this point; my child is, therefore legitimate, and I have a right to be proud of it. How is it, then, that you, the Duke de Peñaflor, belonging to the highest class in Spain, not satisfied with tearing me on the very day of marriage from the husband yourself selected, and depriving me of my infant on the day of its birth, accused me of committing a horrible crime, and insisted on enchaining me to another husband, while my first is still living? Answer me, my father, so that I may know the nature of that honour about which you so often speak to me, and what is the motive that renders you so cruel to an unfortunate girl, who owes her life to you, and who, ever since she has been in this world, has only felt love and respect for you."
"This is too much, unnatural daughter!" the Duke shouted, as he rose wrathfully – "And as you are not afraid of braving me so unworthily – "
But he suddenly checked himself, and stood motionless, trembling with fury and horror; the bedroom door had suddenly opened, and a man appeared in it, upright, haughty, with flashing eye, and hand on his sword hilt.
"Ludovic, at last!" the young lady shrieked, as she rushed towards him.
But her brothers caught her by the arms, and constrained her to sit down again.
"The Count de Barmont!" the Duke muttered.
"Myself, my lord Duke de Peñaflor," the stranger replied, with exquisite politeness – "you did not expect me, it appears to me?"
And, walking a few paces into the room, while the two sailors who had followed him guarded the door, he proudly put his hat on again, and folded his arms.
"What is going on here?" he asked, in a haughty voice; "And who dares to use violence to the Countess de Barmont?"
"The Countess de Barmont?" the Duke repeated, contemptuously.
"It is true," the other remarked, ironically; "I forget that you expect at any moment a dispensation from the Court of Home, which will declare my marriage null and void, and allow you to give your daughter to the man whose credit has caused you to be nominated Viceroy of New Spain."
"Sir!" the Duke exclaimed.
"What, do you pretend I am in error? No, no, my lord Duke, my spies are as good as yours – I am well served, believe me: thank heaven I have arrived in time to prevent it. Make way there!" he said, repulsing by a gesture the two gentlemen who opposed his passage – "I am your husband, madam; follow me, I shall be able to protect you."
The two young men, leaving their sister, who was in a semi-fainting state, rushed on the Count, and both buffeted him in the face with their gloves, while drawing their swords.
The Count turned fearfully pale at this cruel insult; he uttered a wild beast yell, and unsheathed.
The valets, held in check by the two sailors, had not made a movement.
The Duke rushed between the three men, who were ready for the assault.
"Count," he said, coolly, to the younger of his sons, "leave to your brother the duty of chastising this man."
"Thanks, father," the elder answered, as he fell on guard, while his younger brother lowered the point of his sword, and fell back a pace.
Doña Clara was lying motionless on the floor.
At the first attack the two enemies engaged their swords up to their guard, and then, as if of common accord, each retreated a step.
There was something sinister in the appearance of this inn room at the moment.
This woman, who lay writhing on the floor, suffering from a horrible nervous crisis, and no one dreaming of succouring her.
This old man, with frowning brow, and features contracted by pain, witnessing with apparent stoicism this duel between his elder son and his son-in-law, while his younger son was biting his lips with fury because he could not assist his brother; these sailors, with pistols at the breasts of the lackeys, who were palsied with terror; and in the centre of the room, scarce lighted by a few smoking candles, these two men, sword in hand, watching like two tigers the moment to slay each other.
The combat was not long; too great a hatred animated the two adversaries for them to lose time in feeling each other's strength. The Duke's son, more impatient than the Count, made thrust on thrust, which the other had great difficulty in parrying; at length, the young man feeling himself too deeply engaged, tried to make a second backward step, but his foot slipped on the boards, and he involuntarily raised his sword; at the same moment the Count liberated his blade by a movement rapid as thought, and his sword entirely disappeared in his adversary's chest; then he leaped back to avoid the back thrust, and fell on guard again.
But it was all over with the young man; he rolled his haggard eyes twice or thrice, stretched out his arms, while letting go his sword, and fell his whole length on the floor, without uttering a word.
He was dead.
"Assassin!" his brother screamed, as he rushed sword in hand on the Count.
"Traitor!" the latter replied, as he parried the thrust, and sent the other's sword flying to the ceiling.
"Stay, stay!" the Duke cried, as he rushed half mad with grief between the two men, who had seized each other round the waist, and had both drawn their daggers.
But this tardy interference was useless; the Count, who was endowed with a far from common strength, had easily succeeded in freeing himself from the young man's grasp, and had thrown him on the ground, where he held him by placing his knee on his chest.
All at once a mighty rumour of arms and horses was heard in the house, and the hurried steps of several men hurrying up the stairs became audible.
"Ah!" the Duke exclaimed, with a ferocious