He went up at once and renewed acquaintance with him, and Don Cæsar, who was of a sunny-hearted, careless disposition, related to his old friend the reasons for his present poverty, declaring candidly that gay living and generosity to friends had quickly run through the fine fortune he had inherited, and that in order to escape from his numerous creditors, he was compelled to travel about from place to place.
As it was now some years since he had been in Madrid, he asked if there was any news in the city; and Don José replied "None; except that the King has issued an edict against duelling, declaring that every survivor of a duel shall be shot, unless it take place in Holy Week, when he is to be hanged instead."
Now Don Cæsar was an expert duellist, and celebrated for the number of his encounters; so on hearing this news, he said with a laugh and shrug of his shoulders: "Why, then, I must avoid a quarrel, for it is Holy Week now, and it would be a dire dishonour for the last of my race to be hanged!"
At this moment there was a loud outcry, and a boatman rushed into the square, dragging with him a wretched youth whom he had just rescued from attempting to drown himself; and close upon his heels followed the Captain of the Guard, into whose hands he was about to deliver the culprit to be brought up for justice.
But the poor boy, whose name was Lazarillo, begged wildly to be set free, declaring that a harsh master's ill-treatment had made him long to destroy himself, but that he would make no more attempts if he could be saved from punishment; and on hearing his pitiful story and sad cries, Don Cæsar, who had a tender and generous heart, hastened to his assistance and freed him from his captor.
The Captain of the Guard angrily commanded this unexpected champion to instantly deliver the boy up to justice, that he might be punished for his offence; but Don Cæsar, indignant at being thus addressed by one whom he deemed his inferior, drew his sword and haughtily declared that he meant to protect the helpless youth.
A hot quarrel now ensued, and a few minutes later the two were engaged in a duel, despite Don José's repeated warnings about the King's edict, and the special penalty of Holy Week. Don Cæsar, with a few skillful strokes, easily despatched his adversary; but before he had time to escape to a place of safety he was surrounded and captured by the city guards, who quickly bore him off to the prison-house. Here he was thrown into a cell, together with the poor youth whose cause he had championed so recklessly, and who now refused to leave him; and having thus flagrantly gone against the King's edict, he was immediately condemned to death, and sentenced to be hanged next morning at seven o'clock.
Now Don José de Santarem, instead of being grieved at the terrible misfortune that had befallen the friend of his boyhood, at first cared naught about the matter; and then, suddenly seeing in this very incident a means of helping on his own evil schemes, he determined to make a strange offer to the doomed man. If only he could wed the beautiful Gitana to Don Cæsar de Bazan within the next few hours, all his plans would go well; for as the widow of a Grandee of Spain, Maritana would be entitled to a high position at Court, and thus be brought into daily contact with the King, who would then be constantly under the spell of her fascinating beauty.
Having carefully laid his plans with great cunning, the wily Minister repaired to the prison-house at five o'clock next morning; and armed with all authority as the King's Chief Minister, he made his way to the Count's cell, and entered. He found Don Cæsar already awake and talking cheerfully to the young Lazarillo in his usual gay and careless manner, quite regardless of his quickly-approaching end; and hurrying forward, he greeted him pleasantly, saying he had come to serve him.
Don Cæsar replied merrily that there was little in which a dying man could be served, but he added that he should be glad if the Minister would take the boy, Lazarillo, into his service, as he felt an interest in his fate. Don José readily agreed to this, and next he cunningly asked if the Count were satisfied to die the death of a dog by hanging—the death meted out to outcasts and low-born rogues.