In due course we came to Coruña, or Corunna as we more commonly call it, and there I had the delight of strolling about the old fortifications all alone with Dolores and showing her the tomb of Sir John Moore, while St. Nivel obligingly took charge of her aunt, and solicitously kept her out of earshot. The old lady had lived long enough in England to appreciate the attentions of a lord, and he a rich one, without designs on her niece's fortune.
Yes, that fortune was my stumbling-block; I learned of it from old Sir Rupert Frampton, our minister to Aquazilia, who was travelling back to his post on the Oceana.
"I really don't suppose," he said, one evening in the smoking-room, nodding his head sententiously, "that old Don Juan d'Alta knows what he is worth; neither do I suppose that he cares much, for he is a man of the simplest tastes, living on the plainest food, and having but one hobby and object, in fact, in life."
"His daughter?" I suggested at once, Dolores, of course, being the uppermost thought in my mind.
"No," replied the old gentleman crisply, with the smartness of the diplomat; "reptiles!"
"Reptiles!" I exclaimed in disgust; "what reptiles?"
"Principally snakes," replied the old man, shifting his cigar in his mouth; "he has a regular Zoological Gardens full of them—all kinds, from boa-constrictors to adders. He makes pets of them."
"Not about the house?" I suggested.
"No, not exactly," Sir Rupert replied, "unless they stray in by themselves. He's very eccentric and I don't think has been quite himself since the queen abdicated. They say he was in love with her, notwithstanding the fact that she was a confirmed old maid."
"Indeed," I replied, curious to keep the old man talking, for I was desirous of hearing as much as I possibly could about Aquazilia and its capital, Valoro, "it sounds quite romantic."