resolution, I lost no time in putting it in execution.  I put on a travelling suit belonging to my brother, saddled one of my father’s horses with my own hand, and left home one very dark night, intending to go to Salamanca, whither it was conjectured that Marco Antonio might have gone; for he too is a student, and an intimate friend of my brother’s.  I did not omit to take at the same time a quantity of gold sufficient for all contingencies upon my journey.  What most distresses me is the thought that my parents will send in pursuit of me, and that I shall be discovered by means of my dress and the horse; and even had I not this to fear, I must dread my brother’s resentment; for he is in Salamanca, and should he discover me, I need not say how much my life would be in peril.  Even should he listen to my excuses, the least scruple of his honour would outweigh them all.

“Happen what may, my fixed resolve is to seek out my heartless husband, who cannot deny that he is my husband without belying the pledge which he left in my possession—­a diamond ring, with this legend:  ’Marco Antonio is the husband of Teodosia.’  If I find him, I will know from him what he discovered in me that prompted him so soon to leave me; and I will make him fulfil his plighted troth, or I will prove as prompt to vengeance as I was easy in suffering myself to be aggrieved, and will take his life; for the noble blood that runs in my veins is not to be insulted with impunity.  This, senor cavalier, is the true and sad history you desired to hear, and which you will accept as a sufficient apology for the words and sighs that awoke you.  What I would beseech of you is, that though you may not be able to remedy my misfortune, at least you may advise me how to escape the dangers that beset me, evade being caught, and accomplish what I so much desire and need.”

The cavalier said not a syllable in reply, and remained so long silent that Teodosia supposed he was asleep and had not heard a word she had been saying.  To satisfy herself of this, she said, “Are you asleep, senor?  No wonder if you are; for a mournful tale poured into an unimpassioned ear is more likely to induce drowsiness than pity.”

“I am not asleep,” replied the cavalier; “on the contrary, I am so thoroughly awake, and feel so much for your calamity, that I know not if your own anguish exceeds mine.  For this reason I will not only give you the advice you ask, but my personal aid to the utmost of my powers; for though the manner in which you have told your tale proves that you are gifted with no ordinary intelligence, and therefore that you have been your own betrayer, and owe your sorrow to a perverted will rather than to the seductions of Marco Antonio, nevertheless I would fain see your excuse in your youth and your inexperience of the wily arts of men.  Compose yourself, senora, and sleep if you can during the short remainder of the night.  When daylight comes we will consult together, and see what means may be devised for helping you out of your affliction.”