While uttering these words, Don Tadeo had drawn his imposing stature up to its full height; his handsome, noble features became animated, and his eyes sparkled in accordance with his speech.
"Oh," Don Gregorio exclaimed, cheerfully, "I have found my friend again! Thank God! thank God!"
"Yes, my brother," the leader continued, "from this moment the real struggle between us and the tyrant begins—a struggle without pity, without truce, and without mercy, which can only terminate in the complete extinction of our enemies. Woe be to them! Woe!"
"No time is to be lost; let us begone!" Don Gregorio said.
"But whither am I to go?" Don Tadeo asked, with a sardonic smile. "Am I not legally dead in the eyes of all? My house is no longer mine."
"That is true," the lieutenant of the Dark-Hearts murmured. "Well, never mind that! Tomorrow the news of your miraculous resurrection will be a thunderclap to our enemies! Their awaking will be terrible! They will learn with stupor that the invincible athlete, whom they thought they had for ever crushed beneath their feet, is up again, and ready to renew the contest."
"And this time, I solemnly swear," Don Tadeo cried, with energy, "the fall of the tyrant alone shall terminate it. But you are right; we cannot remain longer here. Come home with me; for a time you will be there in safety; unless," he added, with a smile, "you prefer asking an asylum of Doña Rosario?"
Don Tadeo, who had taken Don Gregorio's arm, stopped suddenly at this question, of which his friend did not suspect the terrible extent. A convulsive shudder darted through his frame, a cold perspiration inundated his face.
"Oh," he exclaimed, in a tone of agony, "my God! I had forgotten!"
Don Gregorio was terrified at the state he beheld him in.