"I prefer it," said the captain curtly. "Hi, Ferreira, you and Pirez and Pedro Telles will come with us. Carvalho, I leave you in charge of the monastery. Place four guards at the sacristy door and two at each outlet. Understand, no monk must be allowed to lock or unlock any door, or gate, or cupboard, or to go outside; no, not even the Prior or the Abbot himself. If they want to say their prayers in the chapel, they may: but watch them yourself and see that nothing is taken or hidden. Treat them with complete respect: but if there is any sign of trouble, send for me on the instant."
As soon as he had approved Carvalho's choice of sentries the captain strode out into the open air without another word to the Viscount. A dozen paces ahead went a lay-brother with a lantern, Ferreira and Pirez and Telles crowding behind him. A moment later the little nobleman was puffing at the captain's side. The captain quickened his pace by artful but unmistakable degrees until the nobleman could only keep up with him by a succession of little runs. Needing all his breath for this exercise, he could not talk.
The guest-house was not much more than fifty years old. An aristocratic abbot had built it for the accommodation of his too numerous visitors, whose comings and goings had excessively disturbed the peace of the cloister. It was an oblong building of granite, standing high in a clearing. From its moss-grown terrace there was a view by daylight of the monastery's whole domain, of the plain beyond, and of the Atlantic filling all the West.
There were plentiful lights in the best rooms of the guest-house, and broad pans of charcoal burning cosily on the floors. Even for their evictors the Prior and Abbot were keeping up the best traditions of monkish hospitality. Two bottles of wine—one red, one white—stood on a table, flanked by a giant loaf, a goat's-milk cheese, and a basket of black cherries. An iron pot of soup exhaled comfortable odors from a brazier near the window.
"Is this stuff all right?" sniffed the Viscount the moment they were alone.
The captain arched his brows.
"I mean," explained the other, "is it safe? One has heard of such things as poisons."
"Your Excellency is not obliged to touch it," the captain answered. He emptied half a bottle of red wine into a coarse glass and drank it at a single draught. Then he broke off a hunk of bread and fell upon his soup. The civilian followed his example. For a Viscount he ate a little unpleasantly.
"About this affair down there," began the captain brusquely as he swallowed his last crumb of cheese, "what are we going to do?"
"To begin with, we're not going to be dictated to. They're suppressed. It's not for them to make terms."