"She has gone to San Diego," said a soldier. "Maybe some of the French about here have carried her off."
"Perhaps they respect her, knowing that she is the daughter of Señor Don Jeronimo," said Luengo. "Is this true, friend Candiola, that they are telling about here?"
"What?"
"That you have been inside the French lines, holding confabs with that mob?"
"I? What vile calumny!" exclaimed the miser. "My enemies are saying that to ruin me. Is it you, Señor de Montoria, who have set these stories going?"
"Not even in thought," said the patriot; "but I have certainly heard others say it. I remember defending you, assuring them that Señor Candiola is incapable of selling himself to the French."
"My enemies, my enemies wish to ruin me! What calumnies they invent against me! They wish to make me lose my honor, since I have lost my estate. Gentlemen, my house in the Calle de la Sombra has lost part of its roof. Is there any such trouble as mine! The one that I have here back of San Francisco, next to the garden of San Diego, is still preserved; but it is occupied by the troops, and they will finish it for me, and it's a beauty."
"That house is worth very little, Señor Don Jeronimo," said the friar. "If I have not forgotten, it is ten years since anybody would live in it."
"That is because some crazy people gave out that it has ghosts in it. But let us drop that. Have you seen my daughter about here?"