"But reflect, Michael, I do not know this nobleman, I never saw him before today; how can he possibly feel hatred for me; you are rambling, my good fellow."
"Not at all, Captain, I am certain of what I state; whether you know him or not is no business of mine, but as for him, I will wager that he knows you, and intimately too; the impression you produced on him was too strong for it to be otherwise."
"I will admit, if you like, that he knows me, but one thing I can certify, that I never offended him."
"That is a point on which a man can never be sure, Captain; look you, I am a Basque, and have known the Spaniards for a long time; they are a strange people—proud as cocks, and rancorous as fiends; believe me, distrust them always; that can do no harm, and especially that old gentleman, who has a crafty face I do not like at all."
"All that has no common sense, Michael, and I am as mad as yourself in listening to you."
"Very well," the sailor said with a toss of the head, "we shall see hereafter whether I am mistaken."
The conversation ended here; still Michael's remarks occupied the Captain more than he would have liked to show, and he returned on board with a very thoughtful air. On the next morning at about ten o'clock an excellent pleasure yacht hailed the frigate.
This vessel contained the Duc de Peñaflor, and his silent cousin, Count de Bejar y Sousa.
"On my faith, my dear Count," the Duke said, good-humouredly, after the first compliments, "you are going to find me very unceremonious, for I have come to carry you off."
"Carry me off?" the young man replied with a smile.