The royal garden of Tezcuco was an extensive piece of ground, fenced, on three sides, by the palace and its dependencies, and bounded on the fourth, by the waters of the lake, from which it was divided by a low wall, long since broken down by the Conquerors, by certain shadowy buildings, and by clumps of noble cypresses and other trees. The moon, not yet near her full, shone westward of the meridian, in a sky intensely azure and almost cloudless; and her beams could be traced, through the wall of cypresses, glittering and dancing on the light waves, as they rippled up merrily to the night-breeze. What taste was displayed in the plan and cultivation of the garden, could not be determined, at this hour, and in this insufficient, though beautiful, light. One could behold, indeed, obscurely, flower-beds and shrubberies, winding alleys and hanging groves, little still pools and even, here and there, a jetting fountain, scattered about in a manner which the imagination might believe was designed and judicious; but it seemed, at night, rather a wilderness, in which the nostrils had greater reason to be gratified than the eyes. A thousand odours fell from the trees, a thousand scents rose from the flowers, as the heads of the one and the petals of the other were shaken by the flitting gusts. It was a scene calculated at least to soothe exasperated feelings, and induce sentiment and melancholy in the breast of the contemplative.

To Juan's temperament, it would have been, at any other moment, saddening enough; but his thoughts were, at present, far too much, and far too painfully, engaged, to permit any to be wasted upon it.

As he followed hastily at the heels of the Alguazil, he made one or two agitated attempts to draw from him some further tokens to remove or confirm his boding suspicions; but the Alguazil had on the sudden grown very cautiously or very maliciously silent, and answered only by pressing his finger on his lips, eyeing the youth significantly, and hurrying him more rapidly along.

He led him to a spot, almost in the centre of the garden, where a little oval-shaped pool lay embosomed among schinus-trees, whose long weeping branches, stirred by the wind, swept gracefully over and in the water, which was only agitated, when thus disturbed by the motion of a bough, or by the plunge of the fragrant berries, the harvest of a former year, which dropped at intervals from the cluster. A single moonbeam found its way into this solitary inclosure, falling upon a limited portion of a path which seemed to surround the pool. In other respects, all was dark and invisible, and not a ray could be seen on the water, save when the spectator, peering over the brink, beheld some faint star of the zenith glimmering down among the shadowy depths.

Upon this path, and in this moonbeam, the Alguazil paused, and pointing hastily to a nook—the darkest of all where all were dark,—Juan perceived obscurely what seemed a moving figure. The next moment, Villafana passed among the boughs, retracing his steps, and strode again into the moonlight. As he stood an instant shaking the dew-drops from his cloak, he beheld a dark object approaching slowly on the path. It was the faithful Befo, who, with his head to the ground, and his tail draggling in the grass, as if sensible of having committed a breach of discipline, yet crawled along after his master, under the irresistible instinct of fidelity.

"This is ill thought on, and may be unlucky," muttered Villafana, with a subdued voice. "Here, Befo! you rascal! come with me, and you shall have a bone.—Ay, thou ill devil!" he continued, in the same whispered tones, as Befo, without stirring to the right or the left, and merely showing his teeth, when the Alguazil seemed disposed to check him with his hand, passed on towards the grove,—"go thy ways, and growl as thou wilt: thou art the only thing in the land incorruptible. But thou wilt be acquainted with my dagger yet, if thou hast no better appetite for my dinner."

He resumed his path. He had not taken a dozen steps, before he became sensible of the approach of another intruder: but this time the intruder was human. There was something in the fashion and sweep of the garments, which, even at a distance, apprized him of the character of the comer.

"The devil take these prying priests, monks, friars, and all!" he muttered irreverently betwixt his teeth.—"Holy father,——Hah! by the mass, is it thou, Camarga! my brother of all orders, monkish, mendicant, martial, and so on? Thy masking goes the wrong way: I told thee to meet me at the prison. 'Tis my palace, man; and the princes are in waiting.—Come, these damp mazes are ill for thy years and diseased liver. We will walk together."

"SeÑor GruÑidor, as they call you," said Camarga, flinging back the white cowl, and revealing his sallow features in the moonshine, "seÑor Alguazil, carcelero, rogue, conspirator, devil, and what-not, how I came to be so deep among your damnable devices, in the short month I have been in this land, I know not, except that I have, like thyself, a greater aptitude to be groping among caverns than journeying on kings' highways. But know, sirrah, that besides thy subtleties, I have some whimseys of my own; to which, when the wind stirs them, yours must give place, were they ten thousand times more magnificent than your wit strives to make them appear. Begone, therefore; get thee to thy scurvy Tlascalan, whom thou art training to the gallows; to thy Mexican Magnifico, who is an ass to trust his neck to thy keeping; and to what vagabond Christians will give thee their countenance, who are e'en greater fools than thyself, and the Indians together. Get thee away: I have business of mine own; and I will come to you when it is despatched, or I will not come,—just as the imp urges me. So away with you, and leave me to myself."

"Under your favour, no," said Villafana, apparently too well acquainted with the man to be much surprised at a tone and manner so unlike to those which Camarga had used at the cypress-tree: "I must e'en have your saintly cowl and leaden cross, to swear the two infidels together: otherwise there is no trusting them.—They have much superstitious reverence for our priests and ceremonies. Come, seÑor; I tell thee, the Mexican will make our fortunes."

"Thine, rogue, thine!" said the disguised Camarga, impatiently: "Why talkest thou to me in this stupid wise? I am an older villain than thou.—I have a fancy for this lad of the Anakim, this thick-witted, turtle-brained young Magog. Thou makest a mystery of him, too. 'Slid! I will penetrate it; for I have a use to make of him, as well as thou."

"Demonios!" said Villafana; "are you seeking Juan Lerma?"

"Ay, marry. I dogged thee hitherward, I saw thee hide him in the bush, and by St. Dominic, (who will fry my soul to cinders, for defiling his garments—peccavi!) I will know what's i' the wind betwixt you, ere I stir a step further in your counsels. Dost thou think I will be thine accomplice, and have anything hidden from me? Thou swearest, he is to be murdered to-morrow, too. There is no time to be lost."

"Thou art mad," said Villafana: "he is engaged on our business. I make no mystery; I will tell you all. It is well I met thee. He has company,—a good sword,—and would think no more of lunging through thy holy lion's skin, if he caught thee eavesdropping—"

"Hark! dost thou not hear tuck and corselet?" said Camarga, smiling grimly, and rattling the hilt of a sword against his concealed armour. "I must know his companion too. I tell thee, I will have all thy secrets, or I drop thee, perhaps denounce thee."

"Thou shalt have them," said Villafana, gradually drawing him further from the pool. "His companion is La Monjonaza."

"Ha! sits the wind there? I must have a peep at her: they say, she is lovely as a goddess."

"Thou wilt incense her," said Villafana, emphatically. "By heaven, thou knowest not the temper of this woman, which is deadly. Leave the two cooing fools to themselves. Our fortunes,—nay, faith, our lives, depend upon them. La Monjonaza is deep in our secrets,—"

"Knave!" muttered the pretended friar, in a low but furious voice, "hast thou trusted my life in the keeping of a woman?"

"Pho, she is an older conspirator than thou; a wiser, too, for she can keep her temper. Out of her love for the young man, we draw our truest safety and quickest success."

"Her love! oh fu! and is she of this corrupt fickleness, that she will have two lovers in one hour? But it is the way with these creatures!"

"They are old lovers, very old lovers, seÑor," said Villafana, endeavouring, as he spoke, but in vain, to quicken the steps of Camarga. "You shall hear the story.—Juan Lerma's father was some low, poor, base fellow, killed in some tumult at Isabela. The old hidalgo, Antonio del Milagro, took the boy out of charity, first as a servant—"

"A servant? Dios mio!—Is he of no better beginning?"

"Not a jot; but the old fellow liked him, and, in the end, treated him full as well as his own son,—a knavish lad, called Hilario, some two or three years older than Juan."

"Slife!" said Camarga, "tell me no granddam's tale, with all tedious particulars. How came the youth into the hands of Cortes?"

"Even by setting out to seek his fortune, somewhat early, and getting to Santiago, where Cortes took him into keeping. You heard us say, that Don Hernan, when he received his commission from Velasquez, sent Juan back to his native island, to recruit forces. It was natural he should visit his old friends at Isabela. It was here he met with, and quarrelled about, Magdalena—"

"Magdalena!" said Camarga, with surprise. "You swore her name was Infeliz!"

"Ay; but the true one is Magdalena. When she came from Spain—"

"From Spain!" cried Camarga, starting: "is she not an islander?"

"Pho! didst thou ever see a creature of her beauty, born out of Andalusia?"

"I have not seen her—but I will,—yes, by all the saints of heaven, I will,—I must.—How came she to the island?"

"Oh, a-horseback, I think," said Villafana; "for the ship was never seen at Isabela: never question about that. The two young dogs, Hilario and Juan, found her somewhere, brought her to old Milagro, and, Juan being more favoured and better beloved than Hilario, who, to say truth, was both ugly and vicious, they fought about her, and Hilario was killed. Thus, Juan was left the master of the beauty; but being tired of her, or afraid of old Milagro's vengeance, or perhaps both, he fled again to Cuba, and thence as you heard, came to Mexico in a fusta. What brought Magdalena after him I know not, unless 'twas mad, raging love; yes, faith, that's the cause; for she cares not half so much for Don Hernan. But they did say, at Isabela, she had a better cause; for the ship, it was well known—"

"Fool of all fools!" said Camarga, with a strange and unnatural laugh, "didst thou not say the ship was never seen at Isabela?"

"Ay, truly; but it was seen on the rocks at the Point of Alonso, not many leagues distant," replied Villafana; and then added, "I would thou couldst be more choice of thine epithets of endearment. These 'knaves,' 'rogues,' and 'fools,' do well enough among friends; but one may season discourse too strongly with them, even for the roughest appetite.—The ship was a wreck: there was said to be foul work about it; but that's neither here nor there. The girl was brought ashore by the young men, Juan being good in the management of a skiff,—indeed, a notoriously skilful and fearless sailor. What was said of Magdalena, was this," continued the Alguazil, with a low, confidential voice: "It was discovered, or at least conjectured, that the ship was no other than the Santa Anonciacion, a vessel sent from Seville with a bevy of nuns,—faith, some worshippers of thine own good St. Dominic,—who were to found a convent at the Havana. It was whispered, that the fair Magdalena was even one of the number, and therefore—But the thing must be plain! To be a nun, and to love young fellows par amours—this is a matter for the Inquisition. But thanks be to God, we have no good Brothers in Mexico!—I will tell thee more, as we walk, and show thee, if thou hast not the wit to see it, how much it concerns us to have a friend like La Monjonaza."

"I have heard enough," said Camarga, with tones deep and hoarse; "enough, and more than enough. And this woman was, then, the leman of Juan Lerma, and, now, the creature of Cortes!"—Here he muttered something to himself. Then, speaking with an audible voice, he said,

"Get thee to thy den, and look to thyself: there is danger afloat, and full enough to excuse me from meddling with thee to-night. There is a force of men concealed near to the prison, and commanded by Guzman. Ask no questions—look to thyself: thou art suspected."

At these words, Villafana became greatly alarmed, and exchanging but a few words more with Camarga, hastily departed. He was no sooner gone, than Camarga, yielding to an emotion he had long suppressed, fell upon his knees and uttered wild prayers, mingled with groans and maledictions, all the while beating his breast and brows. Then rising and whipping out his sword, as if to execute some deadly purpose of vengeance, he strode towards the pool.