“And you, monsieur?”
“And I, and I! Who are you to question me, señor? Every girth has been cut!”
“Caramba, mi coronel,” cried Tiburcio in dismay, “you don’t say so!”
“And it will take ten minutes to tie up the cords, while you, you, Señor Frenchman, you stand there, your men mounted and ready! Obey me, I tell you!”
“Can’t,” said Ney doggedly. “Against orders.”
“Orders? Whose orders?”
199“Of Mademoiselle la Marquise, monsieur.”
“Who runs away with a convict. A fit commander, por Dios!”
Off came the Frenchman’s gauntlet, but he paused in the gesture of striking. Too quick at this, and not enough at wits, he might ruin her plans.
“As fit,” he retorted instead, “as another who lets prisoners escape. I advise Monsieur the Colonel to look to his girths.”