"Yes," said some one. "He was here half an hour ago. He told me that you expected him, and that he would return punctually at a quarter to four."
"Good, I will wait for him," was the answer, and Luna quietly came forward, and sat down among the party.
Then the chaff began again.
"Here, let me feel your pulse," said Rafael, taking him by the wrist, and pulling out his watch.
The Count smiled and surrendered his hand.
"Mercy, how frightful! a hundred and thirty. You might think he was condemned to death."
It was a pure invention. His pulse was quite normal, and Alcantara shook his head at his friends in denial. The jest did not vex him. Conscious of his own courage, and convinced that no one doubted it, he still smiled as calmly as before.
"Well, the funeral is at four to-morrow," said another. "I am sorry, because I had promised to go out hunting with Briones."
"And it is a long way to the cemetery at San Isidro," said a third.
"No, no, my dear fellow. We will take him to the Great Northern station, and carry him to Soto, the family Pantheon."