over thy head—a storm will burst from it, and scatter your hopes like chaff before the wind. Again, I say, beware of Alexander Borgia!"
Donna Lucretia subdued the resentment aroused by the repetition of the disagreeable words, and listened attentively as the old woman continued:
"You love a noble young man, and are beloved by him. But there is one—ay, your father, girl, as you are pleased to call him—who looks upon you both with feeLings that bode neither of you any good. When next thou seest Mercado, warn him that danger is hovering in his steps; tell him to be on his guard, sleeping and waking, if he would escape the machinations under foot against him."
"What mean you?
"Hist! I hear the sound of voices in the street—I hear swords clashing in the air. Ah, ha! go to yon casEment and gaze forth, if thou wouldst have thy answer."
Donna Lucretia instantly obeyed.
"I see a gathering of people—I see two persons fighting with drawn swords! Strangers? No! One of them is—it is Mercado!"
The weird woman laughed.
"My lover engaged in a street brawl—a duel, perhaps! Ah, what is the meaning of this?"
"It means that he has been attacked by a ruffian, in the pay of your father. But do not fear; Mercado has a brave heart, and a stout arm, and will come safely off!"
"Thou art right—he does; but see, he has stricken his enemy to the earth, and is now coming this way. I shall see him; Heaven grant that he may not have received injury in the encounter!"
