Not so. Don Roderigo briefly told me to hide where I could this night;
and that to-morrow he would arrange preparations for my flight from
Madrid. My mind misgave me, for Calderon's name is blackened by many
curses. I resolved to follow the carriage. I did so; but my breath and
speed nearly failed, when, fortunately, the carriage was stopped and
entangled by a crowd in the street. No lackeys were behind; I mounted
the footboard unobserved, and descended and hid myself when the carriage
stopped. I knew not the house, but I knew the neighbourhood, a brother
of mine lives at hand. I sought my relative for a night's shelter. I
learned that dark stories had given to that house an evil name. It was
one of those which the Prince of Spain had consecrated to the pursuits
that had dishonoured so many families in Madrid. I resolved again to go
forth and watch. Scarce had I reached this very spot when I saw a
carriage approach rapidly. I secreted myself behind a buttress, and saw
the carriage halt; and a man descended, and walked to the house. See
there--there, by yon crossing, the carriage still waits. The man was
wrapped in a mantle. I know not whom he may be; but--"

"Heavens!" cried Fonseca, as they were now close before the door of the
house at which Calderon's carriage still stood; "I hear a noise, a
shriek, within."

Scarce had he spoken when the door opened. Voices were heard in loud
altercation; presently the form of the Jew was thrown on the pavement,
and dashing aside another man, who seemed striving to detain him,
Calderon appeared,--his drawn sword in his right hand, his left arm
clasped round Beatriz.

Fonseca darted forward.