The old man’s emotion nearly choked him. I was half tempted to throw myself at his feet, when he continued, without waiting for my answer:
“But the wretched, misguided being, who begot him, had the same——. Excuse this emotion; you have touched a chord——.”
“Wretched being, indeed!” I exclaimed, interrupting him, “you know then the fate of the wretched Blas, and half my business is already executed.”
“His fate? No,” said the old man. “Has he then met the punishment so repeatedly due to his crimes? Has his last act of disloyalty to his king and country—of which I have had tidings—brought him to the gallows?”
“No, no!” I replied—all my rage returning at the old scoundrel’s vindictiveness—“He lives, wretched, indeed, as you have said, for by your instrumentality he became the murderer of his son!”
“Jesus! Hijo de Dios! what do I hear!” ejaculated Don Benito; “has the infamous villain crowned all his iniquities by so horrible a crime?”
“Vindictive old dotard!” I replied, throwing back my cloak, which had hitherto partially concealed my face, and clenching at him my right hand, “this hand, given at the altar, before all the saints of heaven, to your daughter—this very hand, through your accursed machinations, directed the point of the knife which drew the life’s-blood from a son’s heart!”
“Monster! hardened, damned, incorrigible monster!” screamed Don Benito, “may every curse——!” But my fiery temperament would not allow me to listen patiently to the old man’s imprecations. We had approached close to each other; I raised my hand to drive the curse down his blasphemous throat—nothing more, for my knife was in my girdle, had I wished to use it—when the infatuated old man seized me by the collar, and called for help. It was the last sound that escaped from his lips—he fell dead at my feet.
Señor Blas here paused a moment to make choice of a fresh cigar, and then thus continued his story.
I left the house without a moment’s delay, hurried through the town, and, mounting my horse, rode “à toda priesa” to rejoin my troop. I had intended to march it on M——, which was quite defenceless, and lay a heavy contribution upon the inhabitants, but a foolish weakness made me decide on keeping to myself the fatal result that had attended my visit; so, framing an excuse for the non-execution of my project, I drew my band off into another part of the Serranía de Ronda.