"Nay, I fear you but jest," said I, taking her right hand in mine, and passing the other over her rich dark hair; "'tis I who am charmed. Oh, Prudentia, you are indeed beautiful!"
"Stuff, señor?" She gave another of her merry ringing laughs. I sighed; but, while she continued to smile, my heart beat quicker, and my head became giddy with wine, and the thoughts that whirled through it. I sat with one arm clasping her waist.
We were both silent, but a deep crimson began to steal over the peach-like cheek of Prudentia.
"Que hora es!" said she suddenly, as a clock struck.
"Eleven!" said I.
"Eleven! oh señor Don Philip, you must go. What would be thought of me, if you were known to be in my room at eleven in the night?"
"The time has flown so quick," said I, rising with reluctance.
"But, señor, you must go—it is so late."
"And we have been so happy—but there is no remedy."
I could have slept very well in my plaid on the little sofa, or even on the mat at her door (for I was bewitched), but I dared not hint that, and took up my sword and bonnet to retire.