The Insurgent Chief. Gustave Aimard

look upon these paintings, half effaced by time and weather, and continued to follow the nun, who trotted on before him, causing at every step a jingling of the heavy bunch of keys suspended to her girdle.

      At the end of this cloister there was another, on the whole like the first, only the pictures represented different subjects—the life, I believe, of St. Rosa of Lima.

      Arrived nearly halfway through this cloister, the nun stopped, and after having fetched her breath for a minute or two, she cautiously gave too slight taps at a black oak door, curiously sculptured.

      Almost immediately a gentle and musical voice pronounced from the interior of the little chamber this single word:

      "Adelante."

      The nun opened the outer door and disappeared, after having with a sign requested the old man to wait for her.

      Some minutes passed, and then the inner door opened, and the nun reappeared.

      "Come in," said she, making a sign for him to approach.

      "Come, she is not very loquacious, at least," grumbled the old man to himself, as he obeyed; "she is accommodating."

      The nun stood on one side to give him passage, and he entered the little room, whither she followed him, closing the door after her.

      This little room, with very comfortable furniture in old black carved oak, and the walls of which were covered, in the Spanish fashion, with thin Cordova leather, was divided into two, which was indicated by a door placed in a corner.

      Three persons were, at the time, in the room, sitting on high-backed carved chairs.

      These three persons were women.

      The first, still young and very beautiful, wore the complete costume of a nun; the diamond cross, suspended by a large silk ribbon from her neck, and falling on her breast, at once pointed her out as the superior of the house, which, notwithstanding the simple and sombre appearance of its exterior, was, in reality, occupied by Carmelite nuns.

      The two other ladies, seated pretty close to the abbess, wore ordinary costume.

      The one was the Marchioness de Castelmelhor, and the other Doña Eva, her daughter.

      On the entrance of the old man, who bowed respectfully to them, the abbess made a slight sign of welcome with her head, while the two other ladies, as they bowed to him ceremoniously, furtively cast curious looks at the visitor.

      "My dear sister," said the abbess, addressing the old woman, in that harmonious voice which had already agreeably struck the ear of the old man, "bring, I beg you, a chair for this gentleman."

      The nun obeyed, and the stranger seated himself with an apology.

      "So," continued the abbess, this time addressing herself to the old man, "you are a professor of music?"

      "Yes, Señora," answered he, bowing.

      "Are you of our country?"

      "No, Señora, I am a foreigner."

      "Ah!" said she, "You are not a heretic—an Englishman."

      "No, Señora; I am an Italian professor."

      "Very good. Have you lived long in our dear country?"

      "Two years, Señora."

      "And before that you were in Europe?"

      "Pardon me, Señora; I lived in Chili, where I have for a long time resided at Valparaíso, Santiago, and subsequently at Aconchagua."

      "Do you intend to remain among us?"

      "I, at least, wish to do so, Señora; unhappily, the times are not favourable for a poor artist like me."

      "That is true," pursued she, with interest. "Well, we will try to procure you some pupils."

      "A thousand thanks for so much goodness, Señora," he humbly answered.

      "You really interest me, and to prove how much I desire to assist you, this young lady will be pleased, for my sake, to take this very day her lesson with you," said she, pointing towards Doña Eva.

      "I am at the orders of the young lady, as I am at yours, Señora," answered the old man, with a respectful bow.

      "Well, that is agreed," said the abbess; and turning towards the portress, still motionless in the middle of the room, "My dear sister," added she, with a gracious smile, "be so good, I beg you, as to bring in some refreshments. You will return in an hour to accompany this gentleman to the door of the convent."

      The portress bowed with a crabbed air, suddenly turned round, and left the room, casting a sour look around her.

      There was a silence of two or three minutes, at the expiration of which the abbess gently rose, advanced on tiptoe towards the door, and opened it so suddenly, that the portress, whose eye was placed at the keyhole, stood confused and blushing at being thus surprised in the very act of a spy.

      "Ah! You are still there, my dear sister!" said the abbess, without appearing to remark the confusion of the old portress; "I am glad of it. I had forgotten to beg you to bring me, when you return to reconduct this gentleman, my Book of Hours, that I left through forgetfulness this morning in the choir in my stall."