"Enough, madam," Montbarts continued with ill suppressed emotion; "this interview has lasted too long; here is your brother, he loves you, and will be able to protect you; there is another person whom I regret not to see here, for he would have advised and sustained you, in your affliction."
"To whom do you allude?" Don Sancho asked.
"To the confessor of your sister."
The young man turned away without answering.
"Why, brother," Lepoletais here observed, "here he is half dead, look at his burnt hands."
"Oh!" Montbarts exclaimed, "It is really he, who is the monster that has dared—"
"Here he is!" the buccaneer replied, as he tapped the shoulder of the Count, who was dumb with stupor and horror, for only at this moment did he notice his victim.
Two flashes of flame started from Montbart's eyes.
"Villain," he exclaimed, "what, torture an inoffensive man! Oh, Spaniards, race of vipers! What sufficiently horrible punishment could I inflict on you!"
All his hearers trembled at this passion so long restrained, which had at length burst its bonds and now overflowed with irresistible violence.