Wilders's ear--
"_Dios mio! Cypriana! Es usted?_" (Gracious Heavens! Cyprienne! Is it
you?)
Mrs. Wilders stopped and looked round. At that moment, too, young
Wilders turned angrily on the man--a black-muzzled, Spanish-looking
fellow, dressed in a suit of coarse brown cloth, short jacket,
knee-breeches, and leather gaiters--the dress, in fact, of a
well-to-do Spanish peasant--and said, sharply, "How dare you speak to
this lady? What did he say to you, Mrs. Wilders--anything rude?"
Mrs. Wilders had recovered herself sufficiently to reply in an
unconcerned tone--
"I did not understand his jargon; but it does not matter in the least;
don't make any fuss, I beg."
The incident had been unobserved by any but these two, and it must
have been speedily forgotten by young Wilders, for he said nothing
more. But Mrs. Wilders, as they passed on, and for the rest of their
walk to the Convent, as the Governor's residence is still styled,
looked anxiously behind to see if the man who had claimed acquaintance
with her was still in sight.
Yes; he was following her. What did he mean?
Half an hour later, when the Wilders had made their bow to the
Governor, and it had been arranged that the general should attend an
inspection of troops upon the North Front, Mrs. Wilders declined to
accept the seat in the carriage offered her.
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