Lepoletais occupied himself with the utmost order in arranging various articles which had been deranged during his morning's operations.
The Major-domo, though in his heart he felt very anxious as to the result of this apparently so disproportionate combat, was obliged to grin and bear it—to use a familiar expression; for he was aware that if he fell into the hands of his master, he had no mercy to expect from him, after the manner in which he had thwarted his projects, by favouring the flight of the Countess.
Don Sancho de Peñaflor, in spite of his natural levity and warlike character, was not without anxiety either, for, as an officer of the Spanish army, his place was not in the ranks of the buccaneers, but with the soldiers who were preparing to attack them.
Doña Clara, kneeling by the side of the monk, with clasped hands, eyes raised to heaven, and face inundated with tears, was fervently imploring the protection of the Almighty.
As for Fray Arsenio, he was quietly sleeping.
Such was the picturesque aspect, imposing in its simplicity, offered at this moment by the camp of the adventurers. Four men were preparing coolly, and as if for the mere fun of the thing, to contend against upwards of two hundred regular troops, from whom they knew that they had no quarter to expect, but whom their insane resistance would probably exasperate, and urge to measures of cruel violence.
In the meanwhile the circle was more and more contracted, and the heads of the soldiers were already beginning to appear above the tall grass.
"Ah, ah!" said Lepoletais, rubbing his horney hands together with an air of triumph—"I fancy it is time to open the ball; what do you say, my boy?"
"Yes, this is the right moment," the engagé replied, as he went to fetch a log from the fire.
"Mind not to stir from the spot where you are," Lepoletais recommended the two Spaniards: "zounds! pay attention to this, or you will run a risk of having your goose cooked," and he laid a stress on the last words, with an evidently sarcastic meaning.