"Not one word. I know not if he spoke at all, save to offer to show the Alguazils his personal effects. To do him justice, nothing suspicious was found amongst them. But the less said on the subject the better. I wash my hands of it, and of him. I thought he would have done honour to the family; but he has proved its sorest disgrace."
"Señor, what you say of him you say of me also," said Juan, glowing white with anger. "And already I have heard quite enough."
"That is as you please, Señor Don Juan."
"I shall only trespass upon you for the favour you have promised me--permission to wait upon Doña Beatriz."
"I shall apprise her of your presence, and give her leave to act as she sees fit." And glad to put an end to the interview, Don Manuel left the room.
Juan sank into a seat once more, and gave himself up to an agony of grief for his brother.
So absorbed was he in his sorrow, that a light footstep entered and approached unheard by him. At last a small hand touched his arm. He started and looked up. Whatever his anguish of heart might be, he was still the loyal lover of Doña Beatriz. So the next moment found him on his knees saluting that hand with his lips. And then followed certain ceremonies abundantly interesting to those who enact them, but apt to prove tedious when described.
"My lady's devoted slave," said Don Juan, using the ordinary language of the time, "bears a breaking heart to-day. We knew neither father nor mother; there were but the two of us."
"Did you not receive my letter, praying you to remain at Nuera?" asked the lady.
"Pardon me, queen of my heart, in that I dared to disregard a wish of yours. But I knew his danger, and I came to save him. Alas! too late."