Our readers can judge of the progress he had made in so short a time—scarce three years—when we say that, at the moment we introduce him on the stage, he had almost attained the object of his constant efforts. He was about to gain an honourable rank in society by marrying the daughter of Don Sylva de Torrés, one of the richest hacenderos in Sonora: and through the influence of his future father-in-law he had just received a commission as captain of a free corps, intended to repulse the incursions of the Comanches and Apaches on the Mexican territory, and the right of forming this company exclusively of Europeans if he thought proper.
We will now return to the house of Don Sylva de Torrés, which we left almost at the moment the Count de Lhorailles entered it.
[1] I salute you, most pure Mary! Eleven has struck, and it rains.
[CHAPTER VI.]
BY THE WINDOW.
When the young lady left the sitting room to retire to her sleeping apartment, the count followed her with a lingering look, apparently not at all understanding the extraordinary conduct of his betrothed, especially under the circumstances in which they stood to each other, as they were so shortly to be married; but, after a few moments' reflection, the count shook his head, as if to dispel the mournful thoughts by which he was assailed, and, turning to Don Sylva, said:—
"Let us talk about business matters. Are you agreeable?"
"Have you anything new, then, to tell me?"
"Many things."