"My uncle! I did not know he was coming. Papa never told me. My uncle never writes to papa."
"What is that you tell me?" replied Asneiros. "He is now reading to the Señor Evaña the letter he received to-day."
"You are mistaken," said Magdalen. "It is the Señor Evaña who has received a letter from my uncle. They sent me out here, I do not know anything of it."
Then twining her hands together and with tears of vexation in her eyes, as she saw him smile at her trouble, she turned from him and sought refuge in her own room.
Nearly a week after this, Don Carlos Evaña passing along one of the streets abutting upon the Plaza Mayor, paused to look upon a group of men who, standing in the open street in front of a large almacen, were discussing excitedly together, the latest news from Europe.
"I have said to myself that my work is all in vain," he said within himself. "In all that I have done I have done nothing, men have laughed at my words, and have scoffed at my ideas as at those of a dreamer. But has it been all in vain? who has given these men courage to speak such words as I hear now, in the open street? has not the day already come to put an end to this absurd farce of allegiance to Spain?"
As he so mused a hand was laid upon his arm, he turned and found himself face to face with Marcelino Ponce de Leon. In the face of his friend there beamed a look of pleasure such as he had not seen there for many months.
"You have heard the news of which those men talk," said Evaña, "and you are glad."
The smile faded from Marcelino's face, and passing his arm through Evaña's he led him away up the street. Turning his face from him and speaking in low tones he said:
"I have news which did make me very joyful, yet now I feel sad. Look——"