Don Zeno mounted his horse, made a last salute, and giving his horse the bridle, departed at full speed.
The painter followed him with his eyes as long as he could perceive him. Then, when at last the Montonero had disappeared behind the point of a rock, he gave a sigh of relief.
"That is one; now for the other? As to the latter, I think it will not be very difficult."
Don Pablo, still seated on the hillock of which he had made a seat, continued to smoke his cigarette.
The young man seated himself at his side, considered a moment, and placing his hand on the other's shoulder:
"Vive Dieu! Don Pablo," cried he with vigour; "For A month past I have lived in your camp; I have seen you accomplish marvellous things; but this far surpasses all the others."
"Eh!" said the partisan. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing. I render you homage, that is all."
"Homage!" repeated Don Pablo; "Why?"
"What makes you say why? Parbleu! I did not expect such an excess of modesty."