"We are too much interested in remembering them," said the marchioness; "never fear, we shall forget nothing."
"Now, not another word on this subject, and give your music lesson," said the abbess, opening an instruction book, and handing it to the young man.
The painter seated himself at a table between the two ladies, and began to explain to them as well as he could the mysteries of black, of white, of crotchets, and of minims.
When, some minutes afterwards, the portress entered, her serpent-like look gliding from under her half closed eyelids, perceived three persons apparently very seriously occupied in estimating the value of notes, and the difference between the key of F and the key of G.
"My holy mother," hypocritically said the portress, "a horseman, saying that he is sent by the governor of the town, asks the favour of an interview with you."
"Very good, my sister. When you have reconducted this gentleman, you will introduce this caballero to me. Beg him to wait a few minutes."
The painter rose, bowed respectfully to the ladies, and followed the portress. The door of the room closed behind him.
Without uttering a word, the portress guided him through the corridors that he had already traversed, as far as the gate of the convent, before which several horsemen, enveloped in long mantles, had stopped, to the general astonishment of the neighbours, who could scarcely believe their eyes, and who had come out to their doors, the better to see them.
The painter, thanks to his looking like an old man, his little dry cough, and his trembling walk, passed in the midst of them without attracting their attention, and went away in the direction of the river.
The portress made a sign to one of the horsemen, that she was ready to conduct him to the superior.
Just at that moment, the painter, who had gone some little distance, turned to give a last look at the convent.
He suppressed a gesture of fright on recognising the horseman of whom we are speaking.
"Zeno Cabral!" murmured he. "What does this man do in the convent?"
CHAPTER IV
THE INTERVIEW
The French painter was not deceived. It was indeed Zeno Cabral, the Montonero chief, whom he had seen enter the convent.
The portress walked with a hasty step, without turning her head, before the young man, who appeared plunged in sorrowful and painful reflections.
They proceeded thus for a considerable time through the corridors, without exchanging a word; but at the moment when they had reached the entry of the first cloister, the chief stopped, and lightly touching the arm of his conductress —
"Well?" said he, in a low voice.
The latter turned briskly, threw an enquiring look around her, and then, reassured, no doubt, by the solitude in the midst of which she was, she answered, in the same low and stifled tone, the single word —
"Nothing."
"How nothing?" cried Don Zeno, with suppressed impatience, "You have not, then, watched as I desired you, and as was agreed between us."
"I have watched," answered she, eagerly; "watched from evening to morning, and from morning to evening."
"And you have discovered nothing?"
"Nothing."
"So much the worse," said the Montonero, coldly; "so much the worse for you, my sister; for if you are so little clear-sighted, it is not just yet that you will quit your post of portress for a superior employment in the convent, or one better still, in that of the Bernardines."
The portress trembled; her little grey eyes gave a sinister look.
"I have discovered nothing, it is true," said she, with a dry and nervous laugh, like the cry of a hyena; "but I suspect, and soon I shall discover; only I am watched, and opportunity fails me."
"Ah! And what shall you discover?" asked he, with ill-concealed interest.
"I shall discover," she pursued, laying an affected stress on each syllable, "all that you wish to know, and more, too. My measures are now taken."
"Ah, ah!" said he, "And when will that be, if you please?"
"Before two days."
"You promise me?"
"As I hope for heaven."
"I rely on your word."
"Rely on it; but as to yourself?"
"I?"
"Yes."
"I will keep the promise I have made you."
"All?"
"All."
"Well, do not distress yourself about anything; but – giving, giving?"
"That's agreed."
"Now, come; they expect you. This long stay may excite suspicion; more than ever, prudence is necessary."
They proceeded. At the moment when they entered the first cloister, a black figure came away from an obscure corner, which, until that moment, it had remained shrouded in darkness; and after having made a threatening gesture to the portress, it appeared to vanish like a fantastic apparition, so rapidly did it glide through the corridors.
Arrived at the door of the superior's room, the portress knocked gently twice without receiving any answer; she waited a moment, and then knocked again.
"Adelante," was then answered from within.
She opened the door, and announced the stranger.
"Beg the gentleman to enter; he is welcome," answered the abbess.
The portress disappeared, and the general entered; then, on a sign from the superior, the portress withdrew, closing the door behind her.
The superior was alone, sitting on her great abbess's chair; she held open a Book of Hours, which she appeared to be reading.
At the entry of the young man she slightly inclined her head, and, with a gesture, directed him to a seat.
"Pardon me, Madame," said he, bowing respectfully, "in thus coming so inopportunely to disturb your pious meditations."
"You are, you say, Señor caballero, sent to me by the governor of the town. In that capacity my duty is to receive you at any hour that you please to come," pursued she, in a tone of cold politeness. "You have no apologies to make me, but only to explain the reason for this visit."
"I am about to have the honour of explaining myself; as you so graciously request it, Madame," answered he, with a constrained smile, taking the seat which she had pointed out.
The conversation had commenced in a tone of frigid politeness, which completely expressed the relation which the two speakers wished to hold towards each other during the whole interview.
There was a silence of two or three minutes.
The Montonero turned and returned his hat in his hands with a vexed air; while the abbess, who pretended to read attentively the book which she had not abandoned, stealthily cast a mocking look at the officer.
It was he who, feeling how strange his silence would appear, recommenced the conversation with an ease which was too marked to be natural.
"Señora, I do not know what causes the displeasure that you appear