"Neither, senor; but I take a deep interest in your affairs; and I warn you, if your heart be not irretrievably involved, to withdraw from the prosecution of your addresses. To my certain knowledge, Magdalena is beloved by another."
"What of that, man? A fair field and no favor, is all I ask."
"But what if she loves another?"
"Ha!" exclaimed the cavalier. "Can she be sporting with me?—playing the coquette? But no! I will not believe it, at least upon the say so of a stranger. I must have proofs."
"Pray, senor, have you never observed upon the lady's fair arm a turquoise bracelet?"
"Yea, have I," replied the cavalier; "by the same token that she has promised it to me as a gage d'amour."
"Do you recognize the bracelet?" cried the stranger, holding up, as he spoke, the ornament in question. "Or, if that convince you not, do you recognize this tress of raven hair—this bouquet that she wore upon her bosom yesternight?"
"That I gave her myself!" cried the cavalier. "By Heaven! she has proved false to me. But I must know," he added, fiercely, "who thou art ere thou goest hence. I must have thy secret, if I force it from thee at the dagger's point. Who art thou? speak!"
"Prithee, senor, press me not," said the stranger, drawing his cloak yet closer about him, and retreating a pace or two.
"Who art thou?" cried the cavalier, menacingly, and striding forward as the other receded.