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Updated: May 17, 2025
I arrived in Toledo yesterday morning; in twenty-four hours I have caught sight of all the persons mentioned, here in Toledo. 'And here, in Toledo, is another of whom you have not caught sight, said Concha. 'Ah? 'Yes; Senor Larralde. 'Is he here? 'Yes, said Concha. They walked on in silence for some minutes. 'What are we all doing here, Padre? inquired Sir John, with his cold laugh.
'Ah what a tragedy life is! she whispered, apparently to the angels, but loud enough for her companion to hear. 'Or a farce, said Concha, 'according to our reading of the part. Where is Senor Larralde? 'Oh, he has gone to the fruit garden with Julia there is a high wall all round, and one cannot see. She may be murdered by this time.
There was a faint suggestion of assumed absorption in his attitude, as if he knew that the priest was usually at the church door at this hour, and had no desire to meet his eye. It was Larralde. A few minutes later Julia Barenna, who was sitting at her window watching and waiting her attitude in life suddenly rose with eyes that gleamed and trembling hands.
Frederick Conyngham was one of these. He now suspected that this was no love letter which the man called Larralde had given him in Algeciras. 'Julia, said the General, 'the Alcalde desires to speak with you. Julia bowed with that touch of hauteur which in Spain the nobles ever observe in their manner towards the municipal authorities. 'Mr.
Larralde gave a little nod of self- confidence and satisfaction, as one who, having conceived and built up a great scheme, is pleased to see each component part of it act independently, and slip into its place.
'And I, said Concepcion, turning round with a brush in his hand, 'should like a moment's conversation with Senor Larralde. 'Ah! 'Yes, Excellency, he is in this matter too. But the Senor Larralde is so modest so modest! He always remains in the background. In the tents of Kedar men sleep as sound as those who lie on soft pillows, and Conyngham was late astir the next morning.
The Padre had a wholesome fear of Esteban Larralde, and an exaggerated estimation of that schemer's ability. He was a humble-minded old man, and ever hesitated to pit his own brain against that of another.
He was not deceived by the picturesque manner of Julia's lover, but knew exactly how much was assumed of that air of simple vanity to which Larralde usually treated strangers. He probably gauged at one glance the depth of the man's power for good or ill, his sincerity, his possible usefulness. In the hands of Sir John Pleydell, Larralde was the merest tool.
Perhaps he was thinking of those illusions which she had during the years pulled down one by one for the greater peace of his soul. 'There is the carriage, he said. 'Let us hasten to General Vincente if you wish to see him. In a few minutes they were rattling along the road, while Esteban Larralde and Julia sat side by side in the shade of the great wall that surrounded the fruit garden.
Larralde, whose habit it was to turn his neighbour to account a seed of greatness this! had almost concluded that the Englishman was useless when the conversation turned, as it was almost bound to turn between these two, upon Conyngham. 'There are but few of your countrymen in Madrid at the moment, Larralde had said. 'I know but one, was the guarded reply.
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