"He might have stayed at home, with good luck and my blessing," murmured Carlos.
"Whether you go to Seville or no, Señor Don Juan," said Dolores, gravely, "may very probably depend on the contentment you give your noble uncle respecting your progress in your Latin, your grammar, and your other humanities."
"A green fig for my noble uncle's contentment!" said Juan, irreverently. "I know already as much as any gentleman need, and ten times more than he does himself."
"Ay, truly," struck in Carlos, coming forward from the embrasure of the window; "my uncle thinks a man of learning--except he be a fellow of college, perchance--not worth his ears full of water. I heard him say such only trouble the world, and bring sorrow on themselves and all their kin. So, Juan, it is you who are likely to find favour in his sight, after all."
"Señor Don Carlos, what ails your face?" asked Dolores, noticing now for the first time the marks of the hurt he had received.
Both the boys spoke together.
"Only a blow caught in fencing; all through my own awkwardness. It is nothing," said Carlos, eagerly.
"I hurt him with my foil. It was a mischance. I am very sorry," said Juan, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder.
Dolores wisely abstained from exhorting them to greater carefulness. She only said,--
"Young gentlemen who mean to be knights and captains must learn to give hard blows and take them." Adding mentally--"Bless the lads! May they stand by each other as loyally ten or twenty years hence as they do now."