"That is true," the commandant said, as he sipped a glass of Jerez de la Frontera; "I am sad."
"You sad? Hang it, you alarm me; if I had not seen you breakfast with such a good appetite, I should fancy you ill."
"Yes," the old soldier answered with a sigh; "my appetite is all right."
"What else can annoy you?"
"A foreboding," the commandant said seriously,
"A foreboding," Don Sylvio repeated, remembering Doña Concha's parting words.
"I, too, feel anxious, in spite of myself," the major added; "there is something, I know not what, in the air. A danger is suspended over our heads, but whence it will come, the Lord alone knows."
"Yes," Don Antonio remarked, "He knows; and, believe me, Don Sylvio, He gives warnings to men when they are in danger."
"Major Bloomfield and you, both old soldiers, brave as their swords, cannot be frightened at a shadow; so what are your reasons?"
"I have none," said the colonel; "still—