While Grant slept, the tinkling of the vesper bells was borne across the valley, the sunlight died away over the mountains, and the winding Tormes, that shone like the coils of a vast snake, faded from the plain. The Spanish girl stooped and kissed her toil-worn lover's cheek, and bent her keen dark eyes upon the mountain path by which she seemed to expect a visitor.
One arm was thrown around the curly head of the sleeper, and her fingers told her beads as she prayed over him; but her prayers were not for herself.
Innocent and single-hearted Juanna!
Suddenly there was a sound of footsteps, and a handsome young Spaniard, wearing a brown capa gathered over his arm, shouldering a long musket to which a leather sling was attached, and having his coal black hair gathered behind in a red silk net, sprang up the rocks towards the olive-grove, and approached Juanna and the sleeper. The new comer was her brother.
"Domingo, your tidings?" she asked, breathlessly.
"They are evil; so wake your Senor Capitano without delay."
"I am awake," said Grant, rising at the sound of his voice. "Thanks, dearest Juanna; have I been so cruel as to keep you here in the cold dew—and watching me, too?"
"Caro mio!"
"It was cruel of me; but I have been so weary that nature was quite overcome. And now, Domingo, my bueno camarado, for your tidings?"
"I would speak first of the Marshal Marmont."