"He's all covered with scars, you say?" asked one of the ladies.
"Ay, senorita, from his forehead to his very feet," was the reply.
"It will be immensely curious to see him; but he must look
terrifically."
"That's true," added the count; "he's grizzly and rough, but very
honest."
"Can't you have him muzzled," suggested a gay little senorita,
smiling.
"Never fear for his teeth, I wear a rapier," added the count,
pompously.
"But seriously, where's he from?"
"Of some good family in the middle province, I understand."
"O, he's a gentleman, then, and not a professional cut-throat?"
asked another.
"I believe so," said the courtier.
"That's some consolation," was the rejoinder to the count's reply.
While the merits of Lorenzo Bezan were thus being discussed, he was
marching his regiment towards the capital, after a year's campaign
of hard fighting; and the Gazette was right in its announcement, for
he entered the capital on the evening designated, and occupied the
regularly assigned barracks for his men.
CHAPTER XII.
THE QUEEN AND THE SOLDIER.
IT was a noble and brilliant presence into which Lorenzo Bezan was
summoned on the day following his arrival from the seat of war.
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