"Who told you that I didn't go out of doors for fear of the peelers?" demanded Mendoza, growing pale.
"Why, the shopkeeper down stairs. He told Juana and I that we had a very important gentleman hiding in our house, but that it would not be much longer 'cause everything was all ready for the revolution.... Don't let it worry you, señorito," she added, noticing how pale Mendoza had become, "the shopkeeper won't say nothing 'cause he's more liberal than Riego.... He wouldn't, he wouldn't, for mighty little good it would do him to have a war!"
Mendoza, by this time quite livid, leaped from his chair, and without replying, left the room, reeling, and hastened to Miguel's study.
"What's the matter?" asked Rivera, seeing his friend's excitement.
"Nothing," replied Mendoza, in a feeble voice, dropping into an easy-chair, and covering his face with his hands,—"only my head is not safe on my shoulders!"
"That's what I have always told you; it is quite too big!"
"Let up on your jokes, Miguel! The thing is very serious. It is already known that I am hiding here in this house, and when it is least expected they will come and take me."
"Who told you all that?"
"Plácida.... The shopkeeper down stairs knows all about it. Just imagine, who won't know it by this time!... I cannot stay here another day; I must find another retreat. The best way would be to leave Madrid."
Under other circumstances Miguel would have dissuaded him from this resolve, because he was perfectly convinced that his friend was in no danger in one place any more than in another; but for the reasons above suggested he took pains not to hinder him.