"Admit him. I had rather know the worst at once."
"Is it quite prudent for your Excellency to see this man alone?"
"No fear, Diego; he is not so terrible as you think. Are my pistols in my poncho?"
The old servant, probably tranquillised by these words, left the room without replying; but returned almost immediately, showing in a man of about thirty, dressed in the uniform of a staff officer of the Argentine army.
At sight of the stranger, Don Guzman smiled pleasantly, and advancing a few steps towards him, said:
"You are welcome, Colonel Pedrosa"—he made a sign to Diego to retire—"although the hour is rather late for a visit. I am delighted to see you. Pray be seated."
"Your Excellency will excuse me, on account of the business which brings me here," replied the colonel, with a polished bow.
Here Diego, obeying the reiterated signs of his master, left the room, although much against his will.
The two men, seated face to face, looked at each other much like two duellists about to cross their blades.
Don Diego was a handsome man, of slender and upright figure, all whose movements betrayed his noble birth, and were marked by the most consummate elegance.