"Yes," the senator continued, taking a side-glance at Doña Marianna, who had let her head drop on her chest; "I wish to entrust Don Ruiz with an important letter for you."
"Why write? It would be far more simple to tell me what you wish in a couple of words."
"No! No! That is impossible," Don Rufino answered, with a smile that resembled a grimace; "that would demand too much time: moreover, dear sir, you know better than I do that there are certain things which can only be settled by ambassadors."
"As you please, señor. When do you propose to start?"
"I frankly confess that, in spite of the regret I feel at leaving you, I fancy that the sooner I set out the better."
"It is only ten o'clock," said Don Ruiz, as he rose; "by hurrying a little, we can reach Arispe tonight."
"Famous! That is better. Allow me, Don Hernando, to take leave of you, as well as of your charming daughter, and pray accept my thanks for the noble hospitality I have received in your mansion."
"What! Are you not afraid of travelling in the great heat of the day?"
"I only fear the sight of the Indians, and that fear is enough to make me forget all others. Excuse me, therefore, for leaving you so suddenly, but I feel convinced that I should die of terror if I heard the war cry of those frightful savages echo in my ears."
Don Ruiz had left the room to give the requisite orders, and his sister followed him, after making a silent curtsey to the senator, whose intention she was far from suspecting. The apprehension expressed by Don Rufino was greatly exaggerated, if it was not entirely fictitious; but he instinctively felt that the ground was beginning to burn beneath his feet at the hacienda, and he wanted to get away, not only to guard himself against the perils he foresaw from the ill success of his plot, but also to try and refasten the broken threads of his intrigue, and carry out his plans with the shortest possible delay.