THE STORY-TELLER.

Evening Post, Volume LV, Issue 137, 11 June 1898, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE STORY-TELLER.

Quit si A TALE OF THE CUBAN REVOLUTION. In the village of Zibacoa, in the interior of the island of Cuba, towards the end of March, 1895, the last day of the sugar harvest was festively celebrated. The 600 emancipated Blaves, who lived distributed over the large plantation in three villages, were assembled to-day before the country house of the owner, Don Pedro de la Sarga, in order, according to the old Cuban custom, to dance, to the sound of the guitars and castanets, the harvest dance. Also, the master, who usually lived in Havana, had, with his youna: son, Don Stephano, appeared himself at this time of the harvest on the plantation. Unbridled hilarity, wild cries, and singing roared about the house. Even the strict overseer was less feared to-day, for every delinquent could now have recourse to the clemency of the planter. Don Pedro's villa stood on a small lake, along whose shores stretched a magnificent park of palms and acacias, intermixed with yellowishgreen bamboo bush, in which the tepid north-west wind whispered. In the cool middle hall of the dwelling house, where a fountain splashed monotonously, were father and son, who watched sympathetically the mejry doings. Old Don Pedro, whose venerable head was adorned with white locks, sat in an arm-chair, and surveyed with patriarchal dignity the gay scene, the dance of his workmen. He was born of Castilian parents in Cuba, and although he had almost forgotten Spain, the mother country, his proud bidalgo bl>od never quite disowned her. His son, Don Stephano, was a young man of about 20, one of the handsomest youths in Havana. His warm, brown akin, his large black eyes, the regular features, the raven-black hair, characterised him as the child of Spain, with all his accomplishments and pride. He wore the princely dress of the young men of Havana. Don Stephano was not in a festive humour, notwithstanding his festive dress. He looked at the rejoicing crowd with a melancholy air, and only now and then his eye sparkled, when a dancer, prettier and more radiant than all the rest, came in his proximity. 4 fcitephano !' called the old father, who had long been observing his aon with gz-eat tenderness. The latter did not hear him. ' Stephano !' repeated Don Pedro. 'Yes, father,' replied Stephano, starting out of his dream. • From your continual sighing and disturbed appearance, I conolude that you are ill or in love !' 4ln love ?' stammered the young man. * You think I'm in love ?' ' I not only think it, my son, I am sure of it ; and I must therefore reproach you for not having confided your secret to me long ago !' ' 1 will tell you all, father. For a month already my heart has been ruled by a love that nothing can hush, but the girl avoids me everywhere ; she scarcely allows me to speak to her, as if she feared that the passion she reads in my eyes would break out in words.' 4 Bah !' said the old man, goodhumouredly. . * You repel the girl by your morose appearance !' ' Oh, if it were only that !' 4 Well, and what is the name of my future daughter-in-law ?' The son was on the point of pronouncing the name that already trembled on his lips, when a sudden noise arose in the hall. A number of young workmen, followed by the clamour and mirth of the others, had entered the hall, and approached Don Pedro. All were arrayed in gala day apparel ; some had guitars, others castanets in their hands. The joyful crowd surrounded Don Pedro, while from all sides resounded the call: 'Mercedes! Mercedes!' 'Well, well, what do you wish, my good people?' enquired the old gentleman. IWe want Senorita Mercedes !' they answered. 1 What, my niece ? But isn't she with you ?' he asked the girls. 4 She was with us, and laughed and danced, until we proposed to play *' the girl's choice." ' ' Did you explain to her what this old Cuban custom signifies ?' 4 We explained all to her ; how i'; is an old custom in Zibacoa to have a girl the queen of the game ; ail the young men present her with a nosegay, and the queen accepts it from the one she loves, while she refuses all the others. But she replied that she was in Zibacoa for the first time and didn't know the custom ; whereupon she ran away and hid herself.' 'The naughty girl!' cried Don Pedro. 'But why don't you seek and catch her ?' • We have searched for her ; but how can one catch the bird when one has no wings ? so we have come to you, Don Pedro, that you might help us !' 4 You have done quite right ! My son, look for your cousin, and tell her that I wish to speak to her.' Stephano went out. For a while complete silence reigned in the hall ; only the fountain splashed. Suddenly, however, a shout arose, the castanets clashed, the guitars twanged, as Mercedes,

with downcast eyes, led by her cousin, entered the hall. She was just 15 years old. A lovely girlish figure i A delicate flush mantled her cheeks, and coloured slightly her neck and brow as she, bowing elegantly, stepped before Don Pedro, her uncle. I ' Mercedes,' said the latter, seizing her hand, ' I have apologised for you and your behaviour to our people. But you must submit to an old custom in Zibacoa.' 'But, uncle ' replied the young girl, anxiously. 'This time no excuse will help you ! ' interrupted the old man. The ceremony began. Mercedes stood near her uncle ; to the right and lrffc of hor the young girls ranged themselves as a sort of court for the queen of tho game. Stephano had retired to ft corner, ' sad and dejected. The guitars began to play soft, yearning melodies. The first of the , young workmen stepped forth, a stately Creole, with a handsome face. , ' My name is G-eronimo Oaldaroz, and lam 22 years old. They have said in my native village that I do not marry because I have never found a girl who was pretty enough for me. But now I see her ; it is you, Mercedes I Will you accept my nosegay ? ' He held out hiu bouquet to her ; the young girl took it, blushing, and let it fall. ' Refused, refused ! ' whispered the lookers-on, as the young man disappeared among his companions, and a second one took his place. Similar words flowed from his lips, with the same result. Tho jasmin nosegays were heaped up at the feet of Mercedes. Don Pedro looked on smiling, and silently wondored why his niece refused so strictly. The last wooers seemed to hesitate — three still remained. The first two were not even permitted to finish their well-formed speeches ; all eyes were turned towards the last one. Mercedes let him finish his speech, took his nosegay, looked at it timidly, and, heaving a deep sigh, let it fall among the other trophies of her beauty. A murmur arose in the circle of the surprised spectators. Don Pedro drew his niece closer to him. ' But, my child,' he said, ' have you considered what you did ? ' ' Yes, uncle,' replied Mercedes. ' Did you not tell me yourself that the choice was entirely free ?' ' You are entirely free to choose, but not to send all away.' Mercedes looked down, and gave no answer. ' I beg your pardon, father,' interposed Don Stephano, emerging from his corner, ' but there is one more suitor present.' * Mercedes trembled violently, so that she was obliged to lean against her uncle's chair. ' Ah, Stephano !' cried Don Pedro, gaily, ' it's your cousin whom ' 4 Yes, father,' broke in the young man, ' I love her V Pale from inward agitation, Don Stephauo stepped forward. ' Mercedes,' he said, simply, ' I love you ! Will you keep this nosegay as a sign that you also love me ?' Passionate ardour and sweet hope rang from his words. Don Pedro's eyes filled with tears. She took the nosegay with shaking hands, looked down at it tenderly, her fingers quivered convulsively, as if she wished to drop it ; she hesitated, and finally, burying her face in her hands, she let it fall. 1 Santa Maria ! He also !' cried the bystanders sadly. Mercedes had turned and thrown herself weeping into Don Pedro's arms. ' Don't be angry at me, uncle,' she whispered, 'before you have heard my justification.' 'Your justification?' he questioned, somewhat relieved. ' Yes, uncle, a secret weighs me down, which I, unfortunately, hare concealed from you ; but I will tell it to you when we are alone.' 'Then come!' cried Don Pedro, exceedingly surprised, and as he took his niece by the hand he motioned to his people to depart. Stephano also hurried out into the open air and wandered about on the shore of the lake. "When darkness set in, he returned home. There he found his father and Mercedes on the terrace of the villa. The Jatter pleadod a headache, and went to her room. Father and son remained alone. ' A word, father !' said Stephano. ' Does Mercedes love me and will she be mme !' ' You must forget Mercedes !' replied the old man, compassionately, but decidedly. Despair seemed to seize Don Stephano, who cried out ardently : ' My love will cease only with my life!' • * « ' * * It was several months later. This year, at his eon's wish, Don Pedro had remained longer in Zibacoa than was his wont. Dark rumours of an insurrection in the Eastern provinces had also reached their ears. It was decided not to return to Havana, but to await the course of things on the plantation. Spanish troops had passed through Zibacoa several times already in pursuit of insurgents. In this struggle of the Cubans for independence Don Pedro's sympathies were on the side of the insurgents ; for the abuses of the Spanish Government in Cuba, the thirst for money and passion for extortion of

the Spanish officials, had deeply shocked him. Only it did nob really please his Castilian hidalgo pride that the affairs of Cuba should lie in the hands of a mulatto, of the guerilla leader Maceo. Therefore he wished to abide events without compromising himself. It was a day late in the summer ; bhe sun had just risen in full splendour over the horizon. The whole village of Zibacoa still lay in deep peace ; only in Don Pedro's house there was already life and movement. According to his habit Don Stephano had risen at daybreak, and now stood at the open window, from whence he glanced over the main street of the village. A man, who looked through the window, and was wrapped in a large cloak, drew him suddenly from his meditation. At first he thought he had a thief before him. At the same moment a body of troopers galloped past the house. The stranger heaved a deep sigh. • Who goes there ! ' cried Don Stephano to him, filially. ' A friend ! ' replied the other. 'Wouldn't you do a stranger a kindness — a man who seeks refuge ?' Before replying Stephano eyed the stranger sharply. t He was a man of about 28, with brown complexion and jet black moustache ; his face gave the impression of frank honesty. His accent, and his blue trousers, which appeared beneath the long military cloak, indicated that he was from the Eastern provinces — probably an insurgent. 'An unarmed man is not my enemy,' was Don Stephano's answer, * and from the moment you set foot over my threshold you are my guest ! ' ' Your hand upon it ! ' cried the soldier, extending his, and at the same time throwing open his cloak, so that Stephano recognised the uniform of the insurgents. ' And now, if you had something to drink, I would be thankful to you for it, and could tell you briefly why X am here.' When he had drank he began — ' You see before you Felize Romero, of San lago de Cuba, lieutenant in the 4th Regiment of the Cubans, which now stands between Santa Clara and here. As we are encamped only a few miles from here, and it was determined to make a raid toward Zibacoa, I asked permisßion to take part in it. In consequence of the imprudent rashness with which I pushed forward, I soon fell into the hands of the Spaniards, who have occupied the country hereabouts. I escaped from them, however. They pursued me, but T succeeded, although I am unarmed and strange here, in turning the •Spaniards off my track. And ir spite of that I would have fallen into their hands again had I not got a sight of this house. Without doubt, my enemies, who rode by here just now, will return through Zibacoa when they can no longer follow my track. If you will, therefore, do me a favour, you will ' ' Conceal you ?' replied Stephano, quickly. ' Quite right !' He glanced about him anxiously. The lieutenant laid his hand on his shoulder. ' A word further,' said the insurgent. ' The Spaniards will scarcely be able to reach here again before half an hour. As you may imagine, this rash adventure was not my only motive for coming to Zibacoa. May I ask you a few questions ?' ' Why not ?' ' I came here in quest of a girl.' continued the insurgent, twirling his moustache, ' and as I wish to beg you for information, perhaps I had better tell you my whole love story. Y.ou know that the insurrection began more than a year ago in the eastern provinces of Cuba, in San lago and Mauzanillo. Our regiment marched westward, and met, one fine day in a village of the province of Rio Abajo, with a stubborn resistance.' ' A village in Rio Abajo ?' repeated Stephano, his brow darkening. ' One house in particular offered a stubborn resistance, so that it was found necessary to surround it, and our furious soldiers, beside themselves from the slaughter, had resolved to kill all the inmates of the house without quarter. I surprised them at the moment when they wished to mercilessly butcher an old man, together with his wife and young daughter. I threw myself between the soldiers and their victims. In their fury they had not re.garded their own superiors, and, struck by a biow from a machere, I sank bleeding to the floor ; but the inmates were spared. The good people whose lives I had saved put me to bed and nursed me with truly touching self-sacrifice. The young daughter watched by my bed, where for several weeks I lingered between life and death. In short, the kindness and beauty of this young girl saved me from death and stole my heart. I confessed my love to her. She replied, blushing, that I must ask her parents. ' I hastened to the old father, and found him at the point of death. The fright of the bloody scene had thrown him upon his deathbed. I had scarcely acquainted him with my suit when he cried out with emotion, ' God be praised ! I can now die in peace !" Then he took his daughter's hand, placed it in mine, and bade u« exchange rings. With trembling hands he blessed both of us, while we pledged each other everlasting love

and fidelity. Three days after the good man was dead, and a few days later, followed by the best wishes of my betrothed, I lei'fc those parts with my regiment, to carry the standard of the insurrection westward. Good luck and victory favoured our flag. Seven months passed away without my having received any news from my betrothed, and it was by mere accident that I finally learned that the young girl, after her mother's death, had left Rio Abajo and lives now with her uncle in Zibacoa. ' But what ails you?' enquired the lieutenant, surprised, as Stephano rose suddenly. ' I know enough !' replied the lattor, gloomily. ' The village is called Tafalla, and the girl's name is Mercedes !' ' Yes ; but what is the matter with you ?' exclaimed the lieutenant, who could not understand Stephano's excitement. 'You know Mercedes? Is she here? Why are you silent? Santa Maria! Is she dead or married ?' ' No, no ! ' answered Stephano, with difficulty. ' Mercedes is here. Without doubt, she still loves you, and impatiently awaits your return! 7 ' And where can I find her ? ' , Stephano was about to reply when the clatter of hoofs resounded from the street. The Spaniards were returning. ' Caution ! ' whispered Romero, aB he spied out of the window. ' Yes, tmv pursuers. Where will you hide me?' Stephano looked at the man who had come to rob him for ever of his beloved one with a sort of wild desire and deadly hate. ' What shall I do ?' asked Romero. ' Take this dagger,' replied Stephano, ' wrap your cloak about you, and follow me.' He opened a small door, which led down a flight of steps into the garden. Concealed by the thick bush I of fragrant roses, finely feathered ferns, and light green climbers, they stole through the garden until they reached a somewhat decayed summer house. From here the lieutenant couid look over the street and park, and after they had made the necessary agreements Stephano hurried back to the villa. Don Pedro sat in his arm-chair, and was alone. ' Father, I have a request to make of you,' said the young man, pressing his father's hand warmly. ' Let me depart and fight against the Spaniards for the freedom and independence of the Republic of Cuba.' 1 Can you forsake your cousin ?' asked the old man, sadly. ' And do you know ' ' I know more than you, father ; more than Mercedes herself, about this unfortunate affair which costs me my happiness, my life. Is not Mercedes betrothed to an insurgent lieutenant? Is not this the secret she cynfided to you once ?' •So it is. But how did you disco^ it?' . ' From a fugitive, who sought refuge here from the Spaniards — from Lieutenant Felize Romero himself I know it.' ' Is it possible !' exclaimed the old man, astonished. ' You will doubtless see now, father, that I must go away !' cried Stephano, vehemently. 'I will not wait till Mercedes and Romero are married. Their happiness would be my death. I have devised a plan which will save the lieutenant and detain me here not a minute longer!' The father was greatly grieved at this sudden resolution of his son, but did not know himself what to advise him. Stephano took his gun and pistols from the wall, and approached his father to bid him farewell. But as he threw himself into the arms of his disconsolate parent the door opened and Mercedes entered. The young girl eyed the two questioningly ; finally her look remained fixed on Stephano's warlike equipment. ' What are you going to do ?' she asked him. ! 'I am going to the war,' he replied. 'Good-bye, Mercedes! Be happy. Good-bye, father !' 'He wants to leave us !' said Mercedes, her eyes filling with tears. ' Leave us, without a laat shake of the hand. Oh, Stephano !' she cried, drawing nearer, ' you cannot leave us so !' ' Will you, perhaps, stop me ?' he queried, surprised. ' Yes,' she returned, seizing him by the hand. ' Remain with us, Stephano— do not go ! I beg you !' • Remain !' cried Sfcephauo passionately. • Remain — to see you in the arms of another ? Never — never!' As he moved toward the door, Mercedes sprang after him with outstretched arms. 'And if I love only you — love only you, Stephano ? If I had never loved another than you ?' Stephano was confounded. ' You— love — me ?' he repeated slowly, approaching Mercedes. Tor heaven's sake, Mercedes, tell me that once more !' 'Yes, I love you!' she rejoined, gently. 'No one but you ! Will you remain with us ?' Tor ever and ever, if you wish it !' cried the young man, enthusiastically, throwing away his gun and pistols. 'Look at me, Mercedes, that I may read in your eye 3 what I no longev dared hope. How blind and foolish I was !' When he had poured out his whole ; heart, he embraced hor passionately.

The whole world seemed forgotten by the two. The clang 1 of swords and spurs penetrated through the open window. Sfceplmtio and Mercedes did not hear it. Frightened to death, Don Pedro started up, crying — 'Stephano! Stophano! think of Lieutenant Eomero ! ' 'Ah ! ' sighed Stephano, who was so roughly recalled from the blissful feeling of his love to the real life. He looked at his cousin, embarrassed. The latter had not even heard the father. 'Mercedes,' said the lover earnestly, ' you said that you loved me, and yet you have a betrothed ! ' 'Felize,' cried the frightened girl; ' heaven forgive me, I forgot it ! ' ' If this man were to come here,' continued Stephano, 'to redeem his word, what answer would you give him ? That it was not love but a mere friendship that drew you to him ? That you gave your word without your heart ? ' ' Yes, auch would be my answer ; but he will not come.' 'What, however, if he wore already here ?' enquired Don Pedro, seriously and emphatically, stepping between the two lovers. ' Father ! ' begged the son. ' Silence ! ' commanded the old man. ' Your duty lies clearly before you. What would you, Mercedes, do if Eomero were already here ? What answer would you give him if he had come to ask you to make good the promise you made at your father's death-bed ?' What would be your answer ?' Timid and trembling, as before her judge, she replied : ' 1 would answer that Lieutenant Komero, before God and man, is my betrothed, and that, so long as he lives, no one else can be my husband.' ' Then come, my child, to receive your betrothed ! ' said Don Pedro, and wished to lead her away. ' Father ! ' cried Stephano, ' you destroy the happiness of my life ! ' ' But I save your honour,' replied Don Pedro. ' Take care of the lieutenant, for there come the Spaniards ! ' Stephano picked up his gun and pistols and disappeared. Wild thoughts rushed through his head; a hard fight of love and honour raged in his excited breast. How could he find courage not to betray his greatest enemy, who had come to rob him of the girl he loved ? Full of despair, the young man wished to run out of the house, to forsake the paternal ?oof for ever, and perhaps die for Cuba's weal But the Spaniards had caught sight of him and barred the way. ' li's too late!' he murmured, and sank down exhausted. ' Two guards before every door of this house !' commanded the leader of the Spaniards. ' Search the whole house from top to bottom ! Whoever finds the fugitive shall have the honour of firing the first shot at him !' And, turning to Stephano, he asked him : ' Why these weapons ? Do you wish to defend with them the insurgent officer whom you are keeping concealed here ?' ' Nobody is concealed in this house !' replied Stephano with the courage which danger gives. ' The La Sargaswere always true servants of Spain. With these weapons I was going to join the j use cause !' The leader looked at him with a scornf vi smile. Several soldiers, who had searched through the house, had entered the room. ' Well, what did you find ?' asked the leader. 'Only a young girl and an old man.' 'Bring the old man before me,' he ordered. And, turning to Stephano, he said : 'And you, young man, wili show my men every room in this houso.' And he whispered in the ear of a sergeant : ' Spare neither threats nor promises to win this youth over to us. Cost what it may we must get the fugitive in our power again !' Stephano walked ahead and left the hall. Two soldiers led in Don Pedro. A pause ensued. No one spoke. Suddenly a shot was heard. All started. One of the soldiers who had accompanied Stephano rushed into the hall. 'The bird is caught!' he cried. ' He was hidden in that little house in the garden.' ' How do you know that ?' asked the leader. 4 From the young man who showed us the rooms.' ' From Stephano !' exclaimed Don Pedro, deadly pale from amazement. ' Because we found nothing in the house,' resumed the soldier, ' the sergeant ordered us to search through the stable and carriage ' house. He himself drew the young I man aside. 1 watched them. A pistol induced him to make a confession. The sly fellow was at first quite stubborn in his answers; to frighten him the sergeant fired his pistol at him. Then he yielded, and pointed to that little summer-house there.' The leader heard his subordinate's story with satisfaction, while Don Pedro li&tened, half incredulous, half shocked. Finally he could no longer conceal his agitation, and cried out angrily— ' Impossible ! You lie ! It cannot be ! My son ! This disgrace !' In fact, Stephano was now seen walkiug beside the sergeant towards the house. His pale, disturbed appearance seemed to announce hiß

guilt. Don Pedro sank into his arm-chair. So Stephano had betrayed his hated rival to the enemy out of jealousy! A deep silence reigned in the hall when Stephano entered. He did not notice his father ; with wide open eyes he stared out into the street. Don Pedro did not move. At last, however, the great p.iin he felt at his son's disgrace overpowered him, and j covering his face with his hands, he j wept. Stephano turned around and j)erceived his father. ' Father ! father !' he cried, beseechingly. ' Never call me father again,' replied the old man, with trembling ! voice and glittering eye, 'if you cannot prove to me that I have | dreamed, that my son is no coward, no traitor, no murderer ! Prove that to me, Stephano, and have pity on me!' The young man wished to speak, but the sight of the two Spanish guards paralysed his tongue. He turned away from his father ; Don I Pedro followed him. ' Traitor !' said the planter again, ■ wratbiully. ' You shall ' A hand laid itself gently upon the old man's arm. It was Mercedes. 'Ah, it is you !' said Don Pedro, staring at her in confusion. c Stephano guarded by two soldiers !' cried. Mercedes. ' Oh, Madre ! Oh, Dios ■ What does that mean ? What has happened ?' She wished to approach her cousin, but her uncle restrained her. 'Keep away from that wretch!' he said; 'for he is a poltroon, a traitor ! He has betrayed your betrothed ! ' 'Betrayed my betrothed!' cried the girl, terrified. 'It is impossible.' 'Indeed, not merely betrayed,' continued the old mau, taking his niece by the hand, ' but now he also watches us, to enjoy the success of his treachery. Do you Lnow my son in that, my child ? ' he queried, full of despair. •Do you still know the one to whom you had given your heart and love ?' Overwhelmed, as if his heart would break, the old man sank upon a chair. Tho young girl looked down at her uncle helplessly. Even the rough soldiers were moved by the'misery of this old man. Suddenly the house began to quake with the report of many firearms. The two soldiers looked at each other significantly, and vanished. So soon as they were gone Mercedes threw herself weeping into the arms of her uncle. 1 Eomero is dead ; that was his end !' said Don Pedro, gloomily. IHe is saved !' cried Stephano, stepping forward. ' Yes, father ; yes, Mercedes, the lieutenant is saved, and soon he will appear alive in our midst !' 4 How can that be ?' questioned Don Pedro, astonished ; for this change from misery to joy seemed to him inexplicable. ' Before I concealed Bornero I had agreed with him thai; a pistol shot should be the sign for him to leave his hiding-place in the garden pavilion in order to conceal himself in the srable. For that reason I was so confused by the sergeant's shot. It was natural iha; Somero should take this shot for the signal agreed upon, jvnd therefore flee to ihe stable. How could I save him otherwise than by appearing to -wish, to betray him in pointing out to them the summerhouse as his place of concealment ? For the past quarter of an hour I bave suffered ihe torments of hell ; but I have saved the man who trusted me !' Stephano had scarcely finished his narrative, when his father drew him affectionately on his,, breast, and begged his forgiveness. The young man tore himself from this embrace, and was about to hurry out to the stable when, all at once, a great shout echoed from the street. 'Vittoria! vittoria!' sounded from ! a hundred-, throats, and the nexii moment a bcdy of insurgents, led by Homero himself, appeared before the house. j ' Homero ! Romero !' cried Don i Pedio, Stephano, and Mercedes, as out of one mouth. ' The enemies of Spain !' said the old lrdalgo, behind whom his niece concealed herself. 'Say, rather, your friends!' replied Eomero. walking up to Stephano I and shaking his hand. 'But how did it all fall out so happily ?' asked the surprised Stephano. J ' 1 will tell you, ' said the lieutenant, cheerfully. • For half an hour I had waited patiently in that summerhouse, when I heard the signal agreed upon, the pistol-shot. I wibhed to leave my hiding place at once to slip away to the stable. I threw a last glance down the street, when I recognised the uniform of our volunteers, who had taken part in the raid toward Zibacoa. Here they all are, who, as good comrades, had determined to avenge my death on the Spaniards. We surprised the enemy in the park, near the summerhouse — a volley, and thirty lay in their biood : the others fled :' ' The volley which we thought was fired at you !' interrupted Stephano. ' The rest is quickly told. I did not wish to leave Zibacoa without having thanked my rescuers j I also wanted a little iniorma tion regarding the matter I spoke about at the beginning, so we came here. Accept brave young man, my heartiest thanks for all that you did for me 1'

He pressed Stephano's hand, and, looking about him, perceived Don Pedro, whom he also thanked with emotion. 'And no lady in the house— a mother, Bister/ asked Romero, gallantly. Not until now did he notice Mercedes behind her uncle's high arm chair. He walked up to her. ' Lovely senorila,' he begaD politely, ' allow me ' He paused and stared at the girl ; then ho signed to his soldiers to leave the hall. ' Mercedes !' he exclaimed. ' Mercedes, my betrothed !' ' Yes, it is I, Senor Somero !' replied the girl, contused. ' Mercedes, you can probably guess what haß brought me to Zibacoa?' said Ptomero, interrogatively. ' Mercedes has not forgotten you,' interposed Don Podro. * She knows her duty, and you have but to say a word ' 4 Won't you answer me yourself, Mercedes?' queried Romero, struck with her agitation and pallor. ' Will you still willingly and gladly be mine ?' 'Yes,' she whispered, ( \1 I give you my hand, my heart will go with it!' ' Words, nothing but words !' thought the lieutenant, looking about him enquiringly. Stephano's downcast, sorrowful mien impressed him strongly. A thought shot through his head. 4 One good turn deserves another ! Sacrifice for sacrifice! He saved my life ; I will save his !' he murmured to himself. He turned to Mercedes, smiling. 4 Senorita,' he began, ' when we betrothed ourselves to each other I promised to love you faithfully ; I meant it honestly ; only at that time I burdened myself too much ; the human heart is fickle. I have other, similar obligations !' He gave a forced laugh as he uttered these worde. 4 1 understand you, senor !' said Don Pedro. 4 But why then did you come to Zibacoa, to ask your betrothed to make good her word ?' 4 Who says I came here for this purpose ?' askea Somero, rudely. '"i beg Senorita Mercedes to forgive me, and to let us exchange -the rings again !' The word was scarcely said and it was done. Homero turned once more to Stephano, and the iattev noticed, compassionately, that in Eomero's eyes there glistened tears, which he kept back only with an effort. ' Felize,' said Stephauo, troubled, 'you are weeping; you are unhapyy ! You did not speak the truth. You still love Mercedes V 4 Silence ! silence ! ' said Komero, drawing Stephano aside. ' What I have done, let it be done ; don't spoil my work. Yes, you say right ; I have loved Mercedes, and hss only ! But not a word about it ! Not even the lightest shadow of my unfortunate love shall darken the happiness of your life ! Friendly service for friendly service ; we are quits ! ' 4 Farewell, brave Stephano de la Sarga ! ' cried the lieutenant somewhat loudly. 4 Celebrate your marriage joyfully ! Be happy with Mercedes! And in your happiness do not forget your native country. Adios, Don Pedro ! Adios, Mercedes ! Yivala Cuba!' He ruuhed out of the doer ; from the street sounded the heavy tread of the insurgents as they marched off, and through the air reverberated their fiery cry, ' Viva la Cuba ! ' — Frirz Eeutter, in the New York Clipper.