He had stepped to the open lattice, and with an upward glance at the lamp, burning steadily in the windless air, leaned on the sill and looked out over the city. Somewhere below by the waterside a dull noise sounded—the thud of a falling beam. The French down there were working by lantern-light, clearing away the houses from their fortifications.
"Yes, I come on business, and from Lord Wellington. The good citizens in Salamanca have ceased to write."
"And small blame to them," one of the young men answered.
"Small blame to them, I agree. And yet they must send news—this time to Lord Wellington, who knows better than to print it."
His eyes interrogated Luisa, who raised hers at length to meet them.
"That will not be easy," said she, with a pucker of her pretty forehead. "They are scared and afraid for their heads: nevertheless, Don Eugenio might bring back their confidence, if only we can bring him face to face with them." She seated herself on the bed's edge and mused awhile with her hands in her lap.
"You know where to find them?" asked Fuentes, addressing the company in general.
"Oh, yes, Señor—assuredly we know where to find them!" answered one or two.