No sooner had the colonel uttered these words with the most charming indifference, than Don Guzman was standing before him, a pistol in each hand.
"By heavens!" said he resolutely, "Such an order is easier given than executed when the person to be arrested is Don Guzman de Ribera!"
The colonel had not stirred; he had remained lounging in his armchair, in the attitude of a man quite at home with his host. He made a sign to the caballero to be seated again.
"You are quite mistaken," said he coolly. "Nothing would have been easier for me than to execute the warrant, if I had any intention to carry it out, especially as you yourself have furnished me with the means."
"I!" said Don Guzman.
"Yourself: you are a resolute man; you would have resisted it, as you have just proved. Now, what would have happened? I should have killed you. General Rosas, in spite of the interest he feels for you, has not absolutely ordered me to take you alive."
The reasoning was brutal, but perfectly logical. Don Guzman bowed his head: he felt he was in this man's power.
"Nevertheless, you are my foe," he said.
"¿Quién sabe?" (who can tell?) "Señor, in times such as we live in, no one can say who is friend or who is foe."
"But finally, what are your intentions?" exclaimed Don Guzman, in a state of nervous excitement, increased by the necessity of dissembling the fury that was raging in his mind.