In answer to my questions, they shook their heads, but gave me no information. Some remained doggedly silent; others denied all knowledge of Don Ramon or his daughter. Threats had no effect. They either knew not, or feared to tell what had befallen them. Oh heaven! could it be the latter?
I was turning away angered and despairing, when my eyes fell upon a figure that seemed to skulk under the shadow of the walls. A shout of joy escaped me as I recognised the boy Cyprio, just emerging from his place of concealment.
“Cyprio!” I cried.
“Si, señor’s” answered he, advancing rapidly to where I stood.
“Tell me, Cyprio! where are they gone—where—where?”
“Carrai, señor’s! these bad men have carried the dueño away; I do not know whither.”
“The señora? the señora?”
“Oh! cavallero! es una cosa espantosa!” (It is a terrible thing.)
“Quick, tell me all! Quickly, Cyprio!”
“Señor’s, there came men with black masks, who broke into the house and carried off the master; then they dragged out Dona Isolina into the patio! Ay de mi! I cannot tell you what they did before—pobre señorita! There was blood running down her neck and over her breast: she was not dressed, and I could see it. Some went to the caballeriza, and led out the white horse—the steed that was brought from the llanos. Upon his back they bound Dona Isolina. Valga me dios! such a sight!”