"Do not fancy, brother, that these immense riches turn me mad. No, no; what do I care for self? I am thinking of the poor fellows I have attached to my fortunes; those who have placed confidence in me, and who will be happy through me. No, I do not defy chance; I thank Providence."
He sat down again, poured out a glass of water, which he swallowed at a draught, and passing his hand over his brow, —
"Go on, now," he said; "I am calm."
"I have not much more to add. I had taken with me three bât horses; I loaded them. I put gold, too, in my alforjas, in Curumilla's, and in Don Cornelio's. That worthy gentleman was perfectly mad: he bounded like a wild colt, and strummed his guitar furiously. He would not leave the placer, but insisted on awaiting our return there, alone. I was almost obliged to employ force to carry him off, so greatly had the sight of that gold fascinated him. In conclusion, you asked me for 80,000 piastres. Here are bills for 150,000 on Wilson and Baker. Add the price of the herd sold at San José, and you have a sum of 164,000 piastres, which is a very pretty lump of money in my opinion. What do you say?"
He then drew the bills from his breast, and handed them to his foster brother. Louis was confounded. He could not find words to reply.
"Ah!" Valentine added carelessly, "I forgot. As I supposed you would not be sorry to have a specimen of your placer, to show your partners, I brought you this."
He handed him a lump of gold, about as large as a man's fist. Louis took it mechanically, laid it on the table, and looked at it for an instant with a fixed and haggard eye; then two tears coursed down his pallid cheeks, and a sob burst from his chest. He stretched out his arms; and, seizing Valentine and Curumilla, drew them to him, and embraced them passionately, murmuring, —
"Brothers, brothers! Thanks not only for myself, but for our poor countrymen, whom your sublime devotion has saved from wretchedness, perhaps from crime!"
CHAPTER XV
THE DEPARTURE
French emigration, in America or elsewhere, has rarely, or, to speak more truthfully, has never succeeded.
Whence does this result? The Frenchman is brave to rashness, intelligent, and laborious. He laughs and sings continually, supporting with the greatest philosophy the rudest blows of fortune, and carelessly confiding in the future. All that is true. But the Frenchman is no coloniser; that is to say, under all circumstances, he remains a Frenchman, and does not wish to be anything else.
The French emigrant, when he quits his country, retains always, not only the desire, but the intention of seeing it again some day. All his efforts tend to acquire the necessary sum to return to the village or town where he was born. No matter whether chance deserts him, he ever regards himself as a traveller and not as a sojourner; whatever be the position he may achieve, his eyes are incessantly fixed on France, the only country, in his opinion, where men can live and die happily.
Infatuated by his nationality, never willing to make the slightest concession to the habits, creeds, and manners of the people, with whom he is temporarily obliged to live, esteeming them as far beneath himself in intelligence and civilisation, the Frenchman passes through foreign nations with a sardonic smile on his lips, and a mocking glance – shrugging his shoulders in contempt at all that he sees, without trying to explain it, and preferring a sarcasm to a good lesson. Hence it generally happens that the Frenchman is not only not loved; but in spite of his open, frank, and merry character, is almost detested, by foreigners.
At San Francisco, the French emigrants – being without any socialities, and composed of individuals of every description, who shunned or tried to injure each other, instead of affording mutual aid – were, we are forced to confess, very slightly esteemed by the Americans, those colonisers par excellence. A few energetic men had contrived individually to make the French name respected.
Count de Prébois' expedition was consequently, in every respect, a blessing for his unhappy countrymen: in the first place by delivering them from the frightful want that held them in its iron clutches; and secondly by elevating them in their own eyes, and in those of the adventurers of every country whom the mineral yellow fever had attracted to these parts.
The count's enterprise had the result of rendering the French colony, at first so despised, highly respectable; and the Americans now began to feel secretly jealous of it. The enlistment of the French company to work the rich placers of Apacheria, was the important event of the day; it was spoken of everywhere. A number of adventurers burnt to take part in the expedition, and employed every means to gain acceptance.
But, as we have said, the count had laid down in this respect a line of conduct from which he would not deviate: the principal condition of enlistment was the fact of being a Frenchman; thus any number of poor fellows was rejected by the count, and many a violent enmity did he collect on his head, but the count cared little for all the disturbance; he continued his work imperturbably. Thus, as we have said, when Valentine arrived at San Francisco, the company was almost complete, and composed of picked men.
The hunter heard the news from his friend's lips, with the greatest satisfaction.
"Come," he said; "you have lost no time."
"Have I?"
"By Jove! To form a mining company, and collect a body of men in less than two months, is no trifle. I congratulate you with all my heart."
"Thank you. Still, without you nothing would have been effected; for mark the fact, Valentine, that although I have the richest capitalists and highest men in Mexico as shareholders in the Atravida, not one of them would have advanced me an ochavo to pay the expenses of the organisation, which I was bound to settle alone."
"That is a clever arrangement, brother. You have to deal with cunning shareholders."
"All the better. I will soon prove to them that they did wrong in not giving me all that confidence I deserve."
"I like that way of revenging yourself. But tell me – "
"What?"
"Have you influential men among your shareholders?"
"What do you mean by influential?"
"Why, men whose political position offers you a certain guarantee against the annoyances which will be inevitably created down there, to prevent the success of your enterprise, and prepare its failure."
"I fear nothing of the sort."
"All the better."
"Judge for yourself. I have among my shareholders the French envoy at Mexico, the French consul at Guaymas, the Governor of Sonora, and many others."
"Did you not say the Governor of Sonora?"
"Yes."
"Ah, ah, ah!"
"Well?"
"Oh, nothing."
"Yes, you mean something; so speak."
"Indeed, why should I make a mystery of it? Do you know this governor?"
"No. I only know that he is colossally rich, that his name is Don Sebastian Guerrero, and he is a general."
"Is that all?"
"Yes."
"Well, you are mistaken in fancying you do not know him."
"Nonsense."
"Yes; and as it appears, you have even rendered him a great service."
"You are jesting; I never saw him."
"That is your mistake. Like the worthy knight errant, you are, you saved him from the hands of the miscreants."
"Come, speak seriously."
"I am doing so. In one word, you saved his life and his daughter's."
"I? You are mad."
"Not the least in the world. Indeed the father, and especially the young lady – who, between ourselves, is delightful – entertain the most affecting reminiscences of you."
"Who on earth told you that fine story?"
"Who? why the general himself."
"That is a little too strong."
"Come, think a little. About three or four years back, I do not know exactly which, did you not after leaving Guadalajara – ?"
"Wait a minute," the count said hurriedly. "It would be strange if the person I saved were really the same – "
"Strange or no, it is."
"Well, then, that is famous for us."
"By Jove! We have a powerful friend, who will defend us tooth and nail against all comers. That is famous. I really believe Providence is declaring for us."
"I did not know that the Mexicans were gifted with so excellent a memory."
"I rather think it is the Mexican ladies in this case."
"No matter; the circumstance is of good augury."
"I hope you will profit by it."
"As much as I can."
"Bravo! And now that your affairs are settled, or nearly so, when do you intend to make a move?"
"I have certain arrangements still to make; so I cannot leave San Francisco before ten days."
"Can I be of any service to you?"
"None here; but over there, great."
"That is to say – "
"Are you fatigued?"
"Fatigued of what?"
"Why, of riding about in the fashion you have done, for some time past?"
"Once for all, and let that be carefully understood between us, remember that I am never tired."
"Good! Then you can render me a service?"
"What is it?"
"Though I cannot start for ten days, you can be in the saddle by daybreak, I suppose?"
"Of course."
"You must return by land to Sonora, to deliver three letters I will give you, one for Don Antonio Pavo, consular agent at Guaymas, the second for the Governor of Sonora, and the third for a certain Canadian hunter whom you will probably find at the Hacienda del Milagro, in the neighbourhood of Tepic."
"I will do it. Is that all?"
"Yes. You understand that I do not wish to arrive there, before preparations have been made for my reception."
"You are right: so I start – "
"Tomorrow."
"You mean today: it is now two o'clock."
"By Jove! That is true. How time slips away."
"Where shall I wait for you?"
"At Guaymas."
"That is understood. Write the letters while Curumilla and I saddle the three horses."
"Will you take your Spaniard with you?"
"Yes, he will be useful to me there."
"As you please."
Valentine and Curumilla went out, while Louis began his letters. Valentine, after saddling the horses, was conducted to the room where Don Cornelio was asleep. We must do the Spaniard the justice of saying that he offered the most obstinate resistance to the hunter, and it was not till he was compelled, that he left the bed in which he slept so comfortably. At length, when Valentine had succeeded, part by persuasion, part by carrying him, in placing him on his saddle and confiding him to Curumilla, he returned to the room where he had left his foster brother. The letters were ready; and Valentine took them.
"Now, brother, good-bye," he said, "and may you be fortunate."
The two men remained for a long time in an affectionate embrace. Louis knew the hunter too well, to try and induce him to take a few hours' rest; he, therefore, accompanied him to the gate, where the four men exchanged a parting greeting, and, at a sign from Valentine, the horses started at full speed. They soon disappeared in the darkness, but the sound of their horses' hoofs re-echoed for a long time on the hardened soil. Louis remained motionless in the gateway, so long as the slightest sound reached his ear, and then went in again, murmuring: —
"A man must be accursed who does not succeed, with such devoted friends."
The count worked through the whole night, not thinking of taking a moment's rest. The sun was already high on the horizon, and he still remained bent over the table, writing figures after figures. The door opened; and the person we saw talking confidentially with the count on the previous evening entered. Louis started at the noise, but on recognising his visitor a smile played over his stern countenance.
"You are welcome, consul," he said gaily, as he offered him his hand; "you could not have arrived at a better moment. Have you come to breakfast?"
"Yes, my dear count; for I wish to talk seriously with you."
"All the better, for I shall keep you the longer. Take a chair, and pardon my being surprised in this state, but I have spent the night in arranging these documents. Deuce take the man who invented writing and accounts."
The consul, for the gentleman was no other than the French representative in California, sat down, smiling; and, by the count's orders, an appetising breakfast was served almost immediately. The two gentlemen sat down opposite each other, and began a vigorous attack on the dishes.
"Well," Louis said presently, "any news?"
"Bad."
"Ah, ah! That worthy Jonathan is yelping, I suppose?"
"Louder than ever."
"Look at that! And why, may I ask?"
"You can guess it."
"Nearly so; but no matter, out with it."
"You are aware that you have made a number of enemies here?"
"Well, it was not my own fault."
"That is true! Well, these enemies are stirring, and making loud remarks."
"About what?"
"Why, you know people can always find something to turn into scandal. They say that the expedition will fail, that you are reduced to expedients, and that you do not know how to escape from your present position."
"Is that all?"
"No. They add, that you have contracted enormous debts, which you will never succeed in paying."
"Good again!"
"You understand that these calumnies produce a very bad effect."
"Naturally."
"I have therefore come to you, my dear count. I am not rich, unfortunately; still, I have at my disposal some 20,000 piastres. I am a shareholder in the company, and it is therefore my duty to come to its assistance; so I frankly offer you the money, which may be of some slight service to you."
The count cordially pressed his guest's hand.
"Thanks!" he said to him, with suppressed emotion, touched by the delicacy of this noble and generous procedure.
"Yes," the consul continued, ransacking his pockets, and producing a bundle of notes; "we must silence these scoundrels. Here is the amount."
And he offered the notes to the count, who declined them with a gentle smile.
"You are mistaken as to the meaning of the word I used," he remarked. "I thanked you, not because I accept your generous offer, but because it proves to me the esteem in which you hold me."
"Still – " the consul urged him.
"Again I thank you; but all my debts will be paid within an hour. I have at this moment nearly 200,000 piastres at my disposal."
The consul looked at him, open-eyed.
"But yesterday – ?" he said.
"Yes!" the count interrupted him quietly, "yesterday I had nothing, today I am rich. I will explain to you this very simple miracle."
When the count ended his narrative, the consul pressed his hand joyfully.
"Good gracious!" he said, "you do not know, my dear count, what pleasure you cause me at this moment; you have staunch friends."
"Among whom I may reckon yourself."
"Oh! As for me," he said simply; "that is not astonishing; for am I not one of your shareholders?"
As soon as breakfast was over, the count set out to settle with his creditors, or rather those of the company, in order to destroy all excuse for malevolence, and close the mouth of the envious. After this, the count lost no time in making his final arrangements, and enlisting the few men he was still short of.
In a word, as he told Valentine when he left him, ten days had scarce elapsed since their nocturnal meeting, ere all the preparations were ended, and the company only awaited a favourable moment to embark and start.
The day on which the French company embarked for Sonora was a memorable one for San Francisco. The North American, beneath his cold and straight-laced appearance, conceals a warm and enthusiastic heart. When the Frenchmen entered the boats which were to bear them to the ship, for a moment and as if by enchantment, all enmities were silenced; and an enthusiastic mob, congregated on the pier, accompanied them with shouts and wishes for success, while waving their hats and handkerchiefs.
The count, as was his duty, was the last to embark. Several of his friends, among them being the consul, bore him company. As he leaped into the boat, the count turned, and pressed the consul's hand in parting.
"Good-bye," he said. "I will succeed, or Sonora shall be my tomb."
"Good-bye, till we meet again, my friend," the other answered. "I will not say farewell; I feel convinced that you will succeed."
"God grant it," Louis murmured, as he leaped into the boat and shook his head sadly.
A formidable shout burst from the crowd. The count bowed with a smile, and the boat started. An hour later, the white sails of the ship that bore the adventurers glistened, like a kingfisher's wing, on the horizon. The consul, who remained on the beach till the last moment, slowly walked homeward, saying to himself: —
"Whatever may happen, that man is not an adventurer, but a hero. He has more genius than Cortez. Will he be equally lucky?"
CHAPTER XVI
TWO MEN MADE TO UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER
As several interesting events of our narrative will take place at Guaymas, we will describe that town in a few words.
Mexico possesses several roadsteads in the Pacific; but in reality has only two ports worthy that name, Guaymas and Acapulco. For the present, we will confine ourselves to the former.
Owing to a large quantity of islands which surround the port like a hill, and the lofty coasts, the roads are in all weathers as sure and calm as a lake. The sea breaks gently on shores adorned with mango trees, whose pale green forms a strange contrast to the earthy red of the beach, and gives the port a wild and desolate aspect, further increased by the continual silence of the roads, where a few ships seek shelter at rare intervals under the isle Del Venado, but, where usually only a few coasters are visible, or wretched canoes, hollowed out of trunks of trees, and belonging to the Hiaqui Indians.
The town stretches carelessly along the beach, with its white, low, and flat-roofed houses, defended by a fort built of red clay, armed with a few rusty and unserviceable guns. Guaymas, like all the pueblos of the republic, is dirty, ill built, and the streets are unpaved; in short, at each step you acquire proofs of that carelessness and egotistic incapacity which characterises the Mexicans. Behind the town, rise lofty and denuded mountains, which protect it from the cold winds of the Cordilleras.
Still, Guaymas, founded only a few years back, and whose population is but 6,000 at the utmost, is destined ere long, owing to the security of its port, and its magnificent position, to acquire a great commercial importance.
The day on which we resume our story, about an hour after the oración, or at seven in the evening, a man, wrapped in a thick cloak, and with the brim of his sombrero pulled down over his eyes, stopped at the door of a rather handsome house, and after casting a furtive glance around, to see that he was not watched, gave discreetly three separate knocks. This manner of rapping was evidently a signal; and the man we allude to must have been expected, for the door opened at once. The stranger entered, and the door was noiselessly closed after him.
The stranger then found himself in one of those inner patios found in all the houses of Guaymas; but he probably was perfectly acquainted with the place; for, without a second's hesitation, he turned to the left, mounted a few steps, and rapped at a second door, which was before him, in the same way as he had done at the first.
"Come in," a voice shouted from within.
The stranger pushed the door, which yielded to the pressure, and entered a large room, which might be considered to be furnished with a certain degree of luxury for Mexico, and especially for a province so remote as Sonora. But this luxury was in bad taste, and smelled of the parvenu. The furniture and pictures that decorated the room had been probably purchased or exchanged with the captain of the vessels that at times put into Guaymas, and presented the strangest possible discordance of style.
A man was seated in a butaca, almost in the centre of the room, and carelessly smoking a pajillo. When the stranger entered, he nodded to him, pointed to a chair, and said laconically, —
"Shut the door, and sit down."
The stranger took off his cloak and hat, which he threw on a sideboard; and, after closing the door as he had been recommended, he fell into a butaca with a sigh of satisfaction. We will describe these two new characters in a few words.
The first – that is to say, the master of the house – was a plump little fellow, as broad as he was long, with ordinary features, while his little sharp eyes gave his face an expression of soothing falseness and cowardly villainy. He was about fifty years of age, though he did not appear so, owing to the freshness of his apoplectic complexion, and long, flat, and greasy masses of black hair, which fell below his red and coarse ears. This worthy personage was dressed in the European fashion, with a profusion of jewellery, and rings on his fingers; and, through his costume and manners, which were made up of effrontery and timidity, he bore a considerable likeness to a butcher or a cattle dealer in his Sunday clothes.
His visitor, whom we have met before by the way, formed a perfect contrast with him. He was a half-breed, of Indian and Mexican descent, tall, dry, and thin as a lath; his face, like a knife blade, was adorned with an enormous beaked nose, which overshadowed a mouth stretching from ear to ear, and full of teeth white as almonds; round eyes with blood-shot eyelids, constantly agitated by a convulsive movement, completed the strangest and most sinister face that could be conceived. A cruel mocking smile continually moved his thin lips, and added to the feeling of discomfort his entire person inspired. In a word, his approach produced that clammy coldness felt in touching a viper or any other reptile. Beneath his cloak he wore the gold embroidered uniform of the higher Mexican officers. His name was Don Francisco Florés, and he wore the badge of a colonel in the Mexican service. We shall soon learn who was the hideous person, concealed under this borrowed name.
The colonel, after seating himself, took out some tobacco, made a cigarette, and began smoking with the most superb nonchalance. For some minutes the two men remained silent, examining each other with the corner of the eye. At last, the former, doubtlessly fatigued by this obstinate inquisition, which weighed upon him, and from which he could not escape, resolved to take the word.
"Caballero," he said, "you see that the instructions conveyed in the letter you did me the honour of writing to me, have been followed out point for point."
The colonel made a sign of assent, while emitting an enormous puff of smoke. The other continued, —
"Now I will take the liberty of observing that I do not at all understand your singular missive, and that I see no reason why you should surround yourself with so great a mystery."
"Ah!" the colonel said, with a laugh peculiar to himself, and which bore a strong likeness to a pile of plates breaking.
"Yes," the first speaker continued, annoyed by this irreverence; "and I should not be sorry, I confess, to have a clear and categorical explanation."
And, saying this, he drew himself up haughtily in his butaca; and regarded his visitor fixedly. The latter did not appear at all affected by this hostile manifestation; on the contrary, he stretched out his legs, and said, as he threw himself back in his chair, —
"Don Antonio, are you fond of money?"
"Eh?" the other remarked.
"I beg your pardon. I should have said gold: I will therefore modify my question. Are you fond of gold?"
"Really, sir – "
"Answer clearly, without any hesitation, as a caballero should do. I suppose that I am not talking Hebrew; so reply, yes or no."
"But – "
"Capa de Dios! if you go on in that way we shall never finish, master, caray. You are too sharp a greyhound, not to have recognised at the first glance with whom you have to deal. Answer clearly, then, without further tergiversation."
"Well, then, yes," Antonio answered, subjugated involuntarily by the man's accent.
"Very good. Do you love it much?"
"Well, tolerably."
"That is not enough."
"Very much, then, if you absolutely insist."
"I beg your pardon. It is a matter of indifference to me. It is not I who am in question, but only yourself."
"Well, well, I understand you."
"That is lucky; but you took your time to do so."
"Come, what is the business?"
"Ah, ah! You are coming to the point."
Don Antonio smiled.
"Well, I am only doing what you wish."
"That is true; so we shall not dispute about that."
"Go on; I am listening."
"You received my letter, as you allowed. Now, do you know why I arranged this meeting?"
"I am waiting to hear it from your lips."
"I will tell you at once. You are aware that a society has been formed at Mexico, called the Atravida?"
"I have heard it mentioned."
"Of course, as you are a partner in it."
"That is possible; but the question is not about that, I presume?"
"Perhaps it is. Well, this company, established under the auspices of the first Mexican capitalists, supported by the government, is intended to work the rich mines of the Plancha de Plata, situated in the heart of Apacheria."
"I am aware of it."
"Very good. You see we shall soon understand each other."
"I doubt it."
"I hope so. This company, composed of Frenchmen, all resolute men, organised as soldiers, and under the command of a skilful chief – "
"Count Don Louis de Prébois – "
"I know him. Spare your praise of him. This company, supported by high influences, must not, however, reach the mines."
"Ah, ah! And what will prevent it, if you please?"
"Yourself first of all."
"Oh, oh! I do not believe it."
"Nonsense! You shall see. Let me finish first."
"Go on."
"How much do you think this affair will bring you in?"
"I cannot tell you."
"What, not even approximatively?"
"It is very difficult to calculate, for the mines are rich."
"Yes, but they are remote. Come, mention a figure."
"It is impossible."
"Nonsense! Even supposing I were to help you – ?"
"Ah! If you help me – "
"I thought so."
"But stay," Don Antonio remarked sharply. "What great interest have you, then, in spoiling this affair?"
"I, none; it is you."
"I!" Don Antonio exclaimed in amazement; "that is a little too much."
"You shall see."
"I am most eager to do so."
"So soon as the Atravida company was established, another, under the name of the Conciliadora, was at once set on foot, as always happens, and naturally for the same object."
"Come, the name is a capital one."
"It is. Now you know that competition is the backbone of trade."
Don Antonio bowed in assent; and the colonel continued, with his dry and harsh smile.
"The Conciliadora, although powerfully protected at Mexico, required an active, intelligent, and upright agent in Sonora; and it immediately turned its eyes on you. Indeed, Don Antonio Mendez Pavo, performing the duties of French consul at Guaymas, was the only man capable of serving it efficaciously. As the result of this reasoning, you were put down for 200 paid up shares of 500 piastres each; the coupons of which were intrusted to me to deliver to you. That makes, if I am not mistaken, a very nice little sum, which I shall have the honour of handing to you."
And he felt in the pocket of his uniform; but Don Antonio disdainfully checked him.
"You are strangely mistaken about me, caballero," he said; "when a man has the honour of representing France, he cannot be bribed in so miserable a way."
"Nonsense!" the colonel said, laughing.
"My duty orders me to protect the French company; and whatever may happen, I will do so."
"Magnificently spoken."
"So now," Don Antonio continued with fire, "return to the persons who sent you, and tell them that Don Antonio Pavo is not one of those men who can be induced to forget his duty so easily."
"That is charming, and you really spoke it with proper emphasis."
Don Antonio rose, and with a majestic smile shewed the colonel the door.
"Begone, sir," he said coldly; "or I shall not answer for the consequences of my anger."
The colonel did not stir; he made no change in the carelessly insolent position he had adopted from the outset. Still, when Don Antonio ceased, he threw away his cigarette, and giving the last speaker a glance of most peculiar significance, —
"Have you done?" he answered quietly.
"Caballero!" Don Antonio exclaimed, drawing himself up majestically.
"Permit me, Don Antonio, I have no wish to remain any longer here and waste your precious time. Still, you will allow with me, that every man intrusted with a mission must accomplish it in its entirety; and you are too conversant with business to deny this fact."
"I allow it, sir," Don Antonio answered, suddenly calmed by these words.
"Very good; then, be kind enough to sit down again and listen to me a few moments longer."
"Be brief, sir."
"I only ask for five minutes."
"I grant them."
"You are generous, sir; I will, therefore, profit by your permission. I go on, then. You are inscribed for 200 shares, representing, if I am not mistaken, 100,000 piastres, which I consider a very respectable sum."
"Not a word more on that subject, sir."
"I know," the colonel continued imperturbably, "what you would object; a bird in the hand is worth a vulture in the air."
Don Antonio, troubled by the meaning attached to his words, could find no reply. The colonel continued;
"The chiefs of the company employed the same line of reasoning as yourself, sir. They understood that they must act fairly and above board with a man holding so high as yourself, and so worthy in every respect of their confidence; consequently, they commissioned me to hand you, in addition to the shares – "
"Sir," Señor Pavo essayed again.
"Fifty thousand piastres," the colonel said distinctly.
Don Antonio made a bound of surprise.
"What!" he exclaimed. "What did you say, señor?"
"I mentioned 50,000 piastres."
"Ah, ah!"
"In good bills, payable at sight."
"On what house?"
"Torribio de la Porta and Co."
"An excellent house, sir."
"Is it not?"
"Most assuredly."
"But," the colonel said as he rose, "since you refuse our offers, and my mission is now accomplished, I need only withdraw, after begging to pardon the loss of time I have occasioned you; for you do refuse, I think?"
Don Antonio had turned green; his small grey eyes, obstinately fixed on the papers the colonel toyed with, sparkled like live coals.