"Yes, the woman he loves lives on the Burgos road."
"I should rather believe that she lives in the Castle of Carrion, for I saw him enter it just as I was departing."
"May the anger of God strike him!" exclaimed Martin, enraged. "Bellido Dolfos at Carrion! The traitor must be engaged in a plot with the count to destroy the band! My heart told me that he was a Judas. But are you quite certain that it was he?"
"As certain as that you are the Vengador," replied Guillen, beginning to think that the suspicions of the chief of the bandits were well founded, for he recollected having heard his companions, the servants of the count, saying that they suspected there was some understanding between him and Bellido.
"What a fool I have been!" said Martin, striking his head with the palm of his hand. "How simple I was not to believe in the perfidy of men! I always looked on it as a delusion of that good Rui-Venablos, when he often expressed doubts as to the fidelity of Bellido."
"You are a greater fool not to abandon the wretched calling of a bandit," said Guillen, vexed that a young man like the Vengador should not have a better profession. "Is it possible, that in times like these, when infidels fight ceaselessly against the law of Christ, and carry on plunder and murder in your native land, that a brave, generous, and enamoured youth like you can be content to remain leader of a band of highway robbers? I say enamoured, for I cannot understand that, being so, you should not have the same ambitious aspirations in your mind that I have in mine."
"I knew well that you were in love with the Infanta," said Martin, smiling, notwithstanding the vexation and the inquietude which his suspicions of treachery against Bellido were causing him.
"Well, then, I do love her," replied Guillen, letting himself be drawn on by the irresistible confidence which Martin inspired him with. "I love her, and I know that this secret, which I confide to you, will die with you; I love her, and I must either make myself worthy of her, or die in the effort. What was I before I felt that love, which has raised my thoughts higher than the flight of the eagles, which soar above us, touching with their pinions the azure heights of the heavens? Listen, Sir Vengador, to what I was then. I was a man who only looked upon the sky to see if the weather was about to be fair or foul, who only thought of the sun when it was too burning, or when its heat was pleasant; who only envied cavaliers because they were better clad and better mounted than I was; who desired to be rich, because the wealthy regale themselves with dainty fare and dwell in luxurious mansions; who saw supreme happiness in a jar of wine, a loaf of white bread, and a good joint of meat; who in battle saw no pleasure but in personal revenge, no glory but in the booty captured from the enemy; who in women saw nothing but women, confounding the love of a loose wench with that of a girl really good and affectionate; who, on seeing laurel crowns and bouquets of flowers thrown to the soldiers, returning conquerors from the battle, said, 'Why should those cavaliers feel so proud at having those laurel crowns and flowers on their brows, when it is so easy to gather them in the fields of Castile?' Who often asked himself, 'Why should men trouble themselves about the good or evil which may be spoken of them after they are dead? What is this world to those who have ceased to exist? Does not everything connected with the world die with a man?' Thus was I then; my soul was as vulgar as that of the commonest of rustics; but as soon as I began to love the Infanta Doña Teresa, that noble girl lived constantly in my thoughts, by day and by night, when I was awake and when I slept. I am not the same, Sir Vengador. It now delights me at all times to gaze on the sky, for it seems to me that there, amongst those white, fleecy clouds floating on its azure transparency, is the world which the Infanta and I dream of every night; the sun of March is as delightful to me as that of July, for the sun is always beautiful, and I adore beauty, wherever it may be found, since I have learned to adore the Infanta; I desire to be noble and rich, that my occupations may be noble, in order to cast no stain on the Infanta with the feelings which cling to those who drag themselves along the ground; vengeance and booty appear to me but trifling pleasures in war; the glory of serving God and Fatherland is that for which I envy the soldier; it is of it that I am going in search on the battlefields of Portugal; I see in women something more than women, I see—I cannot explain it to you, Sir Vengador, but I see amongst them beings who resemble angels, beings who resemble Teresa; love which has not its dwelling-place in the soul is disgusting to me, my heart is all love, all tenderness; it seems to me that one of those crowns with which I have seen the brows of warriors adorned would make me mad with pleasure; my reason would almost depart on its touching my forehead; I would give a hundred lives to win it; I now envy the happiness of those who, when they die, leave behind them noble memories which shall never die."
"Young man!" exclaimed Martin, who had listened to Guillen with enthusiasm and emotion, "give me your hand, even though that of a man, as honourable as you are, should not clasp that of a bandit."
"My arms, and not my hand, will I give you," said Guillen, pressing the Vengador to his breast. "I do not judge men according as they appear, but according to what they are. I know not why you have embraced the despicable profession of a bandit, but I know that the heart of a cavalier beats in your breast. No, you cannot be a bandit simply for the sake of killing and plundering, in order to enrich yourself; some desire for revenge has induced you to adopt the life which you are leading."