The scintillation of the stars and the soft light of the moon
illumined the delightful valley that lay at his feet. Resting partly
against an orange-tree in bloom, the young major could see, three
hundred feet below him, the town of Menda, at the base of the rock on
which the castle is built. Turning his head, he looked down upon the
sea, the sparkling waters of which encircled the landscape with a
sheet of silver.

The chateau was illuminated. The joyous uproar of a ball, the sounds
of an orchestra, the laughter of the dancers came to him, mingling
with the distant murmur of the waves. The coolness of the night gave
fresh energy to his body, that was tired with the heat of the day.
Besides which, the gardens were planted with trees so balmy and
flowers so sweet, that the young man felt as if plunged in a perfumed
bath.

The chateau de Menda belonged to a grandee of Spain, who was at this
time living there with his family. During the whole evening, the
eldest daughter had looked at the young officer with an interest
expressing extreme sadness, and such implied compassion on the part of
a Spaniard might well have caused the reverie of the Frenchman. Clara
was beautiful; and though she had three brothers and one sister, the
wealth of the Marquis de Leganes seemed sufficient to justify Victor
Marchand in believing that the young lady would be richly dowered. But
could he dare to believe that the daughter of the proudest noble in
Spain would be given to the son of a Parisian grocer? Besides,
Frenchmen were hated. The marquis having been suspected by General
G--t--r, who governed the province, of preparing an insurrection in
favor of Ferdinand VII., the battalion commanded by Victor Marchand
was quartered in the little town of Menda, to hold in check the