“Your wish shall be granted, countess,” said the queen; “he shall return to Cuba, and with honor and distinction.”

“Thanks, a thousand thanks,” was the reply of the fair friend.

“You have never told me before the particulars of his returning home.”

“It was but lately that I learned them, by his own lips,” she answered.

“His life is full of romance,” mused the queen, thoughtfully.

“True, and his bravery, has he opportunity, will make him a hero.”

“The lady’s name-did he tell you that?” asked the queen.

“He did.”

“And whom was it?”

“Isabella Gonzales.”

“Isabella Gonzales?”

“Yes, my liege lady.”

“A noble house; we remember the name.”

“He said they were noble,” sighed the countess, thoughtfully.

“Well, well,” continued the queen, “go you and recruit your spirits once more; as to Lorenzo Bezan, he is my protege, and I will at once attend to his interests.”

Scarcely had the Countess Moranza left her presence, before the queen, summoning an attendant, despatched a message to General Bezan to come at once to the palace.  The queen was a noble and beautiful woman, who had studied human nature in all its phases; she understood at once the situation of her young favorite’s heart, and by degrees she drew him out, as far as delicacy would permit, and then asked him if he still loved Isabella Gonzales as he had done when he was a poor lieutenant of infantry, in the tropical service.

“Love her, my liege?” said the young general, in tones almost reproachful, to think any one could doubt it, “I have never for one moment, even amid the roar of battle and the groans of dying men, forgotten Isabella Gonzales!”

“Love like thine should be its own reward; she was proud, too proud to return thy love; was it not so, general?”

“My liege, you have spoken for me.”

“But you were a poor lieutenant of infantry then.”

“True.”

“And that had its influence.”

“I cannot but suppose so.”

“Well,” said the queen, “we have a purpose for you.”

“I am entirely at your majesty’s disposal,” replied the young soldier.

“We will see what commission it best fits so faithful a servant of our crown to bear, and an appointment may be found that will carry thee back to this distant isle of the tropics, where you have left your heart.”

“To Cuba, my liege?”

“Ay.”

“But my banishment from the island reads forever,” said the soldier.

“We have power to make it read as best suits us,” was the reply.

“You are really too good to me,” replied the soldier.

“Now to your duty, general, and to-morrow we shall have further business with you.”