"I hope so," said the conspirator, coolly.
"Ah! ah!" the young man remarked, "all is for the best, then?"
"You are about to be present at a very interesting spectacle."
"Oh! I depend upon you for that. For my part, I am glad at not having lost such an opportunity."
"Is it not one?"
"Pardieu!—yes. It is astonishing how travelling instructs one," he added, in the form of a parenthesis.
The individuals assembled near the fountain surrounded them with every mark of the profoundest respect. These were the faithful—the Dark-Hearts—upon whom perfect dependence was to be placed.
"Gentlemen," said Don Tadeo, "the struggle is about to commence. I desire at length that you should know me, that you should be informed who the man is who commands you."
And he threw off his mask. A burst of enthusiasm broke from the ranks of the conspirators. "Don Tadeo de Leon!" they cried with astonishment, mingled with a species of veneration for the man who had suffered so much for the common cause.
"Yes, gentlemen," Don Tadeo replied, "the man whom the creatures of the tyrant condemned to death, and whom God has miraculously preserved, in order to be the instrument of His vengeance today."