But sweet was the pure and beautiful girl's sleep-sweet was
the smile that played about her delicate mouth-and lovely beyond the
painter's power, the whole expression of soft delight that dwelt in
her incomparably handsome features.
The song ceased, but the sleeper dreamed on in delightful quietude.
Not so without; there was a scene enacting there that would chill
the heart of woman, and call into action all the sterner powers of
the other sex.
Some strange chance had drawn General Harero from his quarters,
also, at this hour, and the sound of the guitar had attracted him to
the Plato just as Lorenzo Bezan had completed his song. Hearing
approaching footsteps, and not caring to be discovered, the
serenader slung his guitar by its silken cord behind his back, and
wrapping his cloak about him, prepared to leave the spot; but hardly
had he reached the top of the broad stairs that lead towards the
Calle de Mercaderes (street of the merchants), when he stood face to
face with his bitter enemy, General Harero!
"General Harero!"
"Lorenzo Bezan!"
Said each, calling the other's name, in the first moment of
surprise.
"So you still propose to continue your persecutions towards this
lady?" said General Harero, sarcastically.
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