"Willingly."
"That is famous," said the commandant, as he rang a bell.
A Negro slave appeared.
"This gentleman is going to breakfast with me. By the bye, Don Sylvio, I have a large packet of papers addressed to you, which arrived last night from Buenos Aires by express."
"Heaven be praised! I feared some delay. These papers are indispensable for my marriage."
"All is for the best," Don Antonio remarked.
The young man placed the packet in his coat pocket, and the slave opened the door again.
"Your Excellency is served," he said.
A third guest was waiting for them in the dining room. It was Major Bloomfield, a tall, dry, punctilious Englishman, who had been second in command at Carmen for twenty years past. Don Antonio and the major had fought side by side in their youth, and had a fraternal attachment. They sat down, after the usual ceremony, to an abundantly and delicately covered table, and at the dessert the conversation, which had suffered through the appetite of the guests, became thoroughly friendly.
"By the way," Don Sylvio asked, "what is the matter with you, Don Antonio? You do not seem in your usual good spirits."