"It is a pity," I said, "that the oracion has sounded, as we can not now ride thither."
"If it is the intention of your lordship to accompany me, as my captain said you might," the messenger replied, "he recommended you to go on foot."
In spite of the great honor that would accrue to me by rendering this service to the Mexican nation, I could not hide from myself that I would have the worst of it in this chivalrous exchange of purse and sword. However, the desire of knowing from the mouth of Don Blas how much I ought to fear the resentment of the bravo with whom chance had brought me acquainted, determined me not to allow this opportunity to escape. I took time only to throw a cloak over my shoulders, and hide my pistols under my coat. I then set out, followed by the soldier. Still, I took care, while passing through the town—which became more and more solitary as we approached the suburbs—to walk in the middle of the road, as well to see all who were approaching, as to avoid the angles in the wall that might shelter ambuscades. I arrived without accident at the Guadaloupe gate, sometimes smiling at my terrors, sometimes shuddering at some sudden noise. The night was very dark, and the July rains were already announced by a thick fog, the moisture of which rendered the pavement slippery.
"Shall we soon be there?" I asked of the soldier, when we came to the gate.
"Immediately," he replied.
A drizzling rain succeeded the fog. We soon arrived at a road which ran between the lakes, without the soldier showing any signs of having reached the end of his journey. A thick mist, which hovered over the water, hid the two snowy peaks of the volcanoes which cap the Cordilleras. At last I perceived at some distance the lighted windows of a small house, and very soon a confused sound of voices reached my ear. Arrived at the house, the soldier tapped with his bayonet, and the door opened. He entered first without any ceremony, and motioned me to follow him. Under any other circumstances, I should have seen nothing very extraordinary in this invitation; but my ideas having been running on ambuscades for the last month, I hesitated about penetrating into such a cut-throat looking place. A voice that I knew put an end to my hesitation: it was that of the Lieutenant Don Blas, who was conversing with his asistente about the result of his mission. All my fears then vanished, and I entered. At the same time Don Blas sprang to meet me, and pressed me in his arms with all a Mexican's warmth. After the first compliments had passed, he led me through a room (crowded with men of all grades), a kind of vestibule, into a spacious hall, where some individuals of a higher rank sat round half a dozen tables, drinking and gambling. They all appeared to be military men, judging at least from their mustaches, and Don Blas himself bore no other insignia of his rank than a round jacket, decorated with a sort of epaulet on each shoulder, denoting only the brevet captain. We sat down at a table by ourselves. The men looked at me in a way that was not altogether pleasant or comfortable.
"He is a friend," Don Blas said, hastily; "he won't betray us."
I had the best of reasons for being discreet on such an occasion, and made no remark upon the words of the lieutenant. We were served with an infusion of tamarind with a strong dash of brandy in it; I then asked him, "How comes it that you did not, in person, ask for the favor you expected from me? You would have saved me a long walk, and a return home alone in the dark."
"I am going to reply to your question," said the lieutenant, stretching out his hand for the ounce of gold, and putting it into his pocket. "The reason why I have given you so much trouble is that I am kept here as a kind of pledge for the money I owe; as for you, you will return home at daybreak in the company of your very devoted servant."
"Does that mean that I am to be kept here as a kind of pledge also?"