Luisa Gomez flung him a rough skirt and a shawl.

He huddled into a corner near the bed,--in such wise that the figures of Iris and Manoela would cloak the rays of the lamp,--placed his drawn sword across his knees, and draped the two garments over his head and limbs.
Then, greatly agitated, but not daring to refuse admittance to the dreaded soldiery, the woman unbarred the door.

A man staggered in.

He was alone, and a swirl of wind and rain caused the lamp to flicker so madly that no one could distinguish his features until the door was closed again.
But Iris knew him.

Though her eyes were dim with tears, though the new-comer carried a broken gun in his hands, and his face was blood-stained, she knew.
With a shriek that dismayed the other women--who could not guess that joy is more boisterous than sorrow, she leaped up and threw her arms around him.
"Oh, Philip, Philip!" she sobbed.