That lady, having for the last few minutes been perfectly passive, and left to recover from the shock she had sustained, had by this time somewhat collected herself. The appearance of the alguazils, indeed, being also unexpected, had slightly discomposed her again; but as she observed the unshaken attitude of Hildebrand, and, what surprised her more, that it was not without effect on his adversaries, her determination revived, and she acquired firmness and nerve from the disposition of her lover.
There was a flush of anger on her face as she stepped forward, and, though the cavalier who had last spoken, and who was no other than Don Gonzalez, her guardian, met her with a smile, his look sank before her flashing eye.
“There is no need of the corregidor here, Don Gonzalez,” she cried, “or even of an alcaide, as I know thee to be. This cavalier is a guest of mine.”
“And there is no need that thou shouldst publish thine own dishonour,” answered Gonzalez.
“Thou liest, villain!” returned Inez, trembling with passion. “But beware! beware! I will go bury me in a convent, but I will be revenged on thee!”
Gonzalez turned pale on hearing this threat; and though, at first sight, the injury it would invoke against him might seem but small, he did not shrink without good cause. Whatever way he might ultimately dispose of Inez, he would be able, by a little underhand dealing, to secure a large share of her dower to himself, and, further, avoid all troublesome accounts; but if Inez should take refuge in a convent, and unite herself with the church, his views in that respect, however artfully contrived, would be utterly frustrated. There was a long account of stewardship to make up, and, if that could be accomplished, years of administration to report on, which he knew the church would not overlook; and these reflections gave a weight and importance to his ward’s threat, that he might well regard with great dismay.
His hesitation was not unobserved. Don Felix, watching him intently, detected it in a moment, and, seeing that he was silenced, began to fear that he would suffer Hildebrand to escape. As he thought that such an issue would be very unsatisfactory, and might involve him in some difficulty, if not actual peril, he deemed it advisable to interpose; and, by taking all blame from Gonzalez, avert any further interference of the enraged Inez.
“Senhora,” he said, “thy right to receive what guests thou wilt cannot be questioned. We apprehend the stranger, not because he is thy guest, but because he is an Englishman, and a spy.”
“This is the second time, Sir Spaniard,” cried Hildebrand, in Spanish, “that thou hast named me a spy. I spared thy life before; do thou look to it now!”
Before any one could come between them, he dealt Don Felix a blow, on his first guard, that knocked his sword out of his hand; and then made a spring at his throat. He had hardly seized his collar, however, when he was himself laid hold of by the alguazils, who, under cover of his attack, had entered the kitchen unnoticed, and now effected his capture.