"Come, this sounds fair enough," cries Dawson. "But pray, Señor, are we
to do nothing for our keep?"

"Nothing beyond what we came here to do," replies he, with a meaning
glance at Moll.

"What!" cries poor Moll, in pain. "We are to dance no more!"

The Don shook his head gravely; and, remembering the jolly, vagabond,
careless, adventurous life we had led these past two months and more,
with a thousand pleasant incidents of our happy junketings, we were all
downcast at the prospect of living in this place--though a paradise--for
a year without change.

"Though I promised you no more than I offer," says the Don, "yet if this
prospect displease you, we will cry quits and part here. Nay," adds he,
taking a purse from his pocket, "I will give you the means to return to
Alicante, where you may live as better pleases you."

It seemed to me that there was an unfeigned carelessness in his manner,
as if he would as lief as not throw up this hazardous enterprise for
some other more sure undertaking. And, indeed, I believe he was then
balancing another alternative in his mind.

At this generous offer Moll dashed away the tears that had sprung to her
eyes, brightening up wonderfully, but then, casting her eyes upon the
Don, her face fell again as at the thought of leaving him. For we all
admired him, and she prodigiously, for his great reserve and many good
qualities which commanded respect, and this feeling was tinged in her