"We are not the first who have discovered this glade," said the general, stopping and courteously bowing to the persons who accompanied him; "but never mind, señor, I think the place is well chosen for our conversation that we wish to have, and I think we shall do well to stop here."
"I am thoroughly of your opinion, señor general; let us stay here, it would be difficult to have a better place."
The six officers then formed a group in the middle of the glade, and then commenced the presentations, for those men, who knew each other well by name, and who had come so far to treat on important matters, had never seen one another before that day.
These officers were, on the part of the Spanish creoles—the General. Don Eusebio Moratín; the Duc de Mantone—the Frenchman, who insisted that he should only be called Louis Dubois; and Don Juan Armero, a Montonero officer of the squadron of Zeno Cabral.
The Brazilians were represented by General Don Roque, the Marquis de Castelmelhor; Captain Don Sebastiao Vianna, his aide-de-camp; and another officer of an inferior grade, who plays too insignificant a part in this history for us to present him more formally to the reader.
The Marquis de Castelmelhor was no longer the elegant and handsome cavalier that we have seen in the former part of this narrative. Years, accumulating on his head, had furrowed his face with long wrinkles; the fire of his eye was deadened, so as to leave only a restless expression, sad and almost fierce; his hair had whitened, and his tall figure began to bow under the weight of the incessant fatigues of military life, or perhaps, as his enemies said—and the general had a great many—under the heavy burden of sharp remorse.
M. Dubois was still the same personage of ascetic features, of pale complexion, and of cold and stately manners.
After their mutual presentation, the six men examined each other curiously, secretly studying one another's features, to see where one could the best attack the other.
These officers, silent and sombre, thus looking at each other stealthily before commencing the conversation, rather resembled duellists making ready to fire at each other, than diplomatists assembled to discuss important political questions.
The marquis soon decided that if this silence were prolonged it would become more and more embarrassing for all; so having several times passed his hand over his forehead, as if to chase away some importunate thought, he took upon himself to speak.