a little distance, approached.

"I believe," said the one who appeared the chief of the band, "that I
have the honor to address Senior Don Martin Fonseca?"

"Such is my name."

"In the name of the king we arrest you. Follow us."

"Arrest! on what plea? What is my offence?"

"It is stated on this writ, signed by his Eminence the Cardinal-Duke de
Lerma. You are charged with the crime of desertion."

"Thou liest, knave! I had the general's free permission to quit the
camp."

"We have said all--follow!"

Fonseca, naturally of the most impetuous and passionate character, was
not, in that moment, in a mood to calculate coldly all the consequences
of resistance. Arrest--imprisonment--on the eve before that which was
to see him the deliverer of Beatriz, constituted a sentence of such
despair, that all other considerations vanished before it. He set his
teeth firmly, drew his sword, dashed aside the alguazil who attempted to
obstruct his path, and strode grimly on, shaking one clenched hand in
defiance, while, with the other, he waved the good Toledo that had often
blazed in the van of battle, at the war-cry of "St. Iago and Spain!"

The alguazils closed round the soldier, and the clash of swords was