On leaving Guaymas, he had given orders to the officer to whom he gave the temporary command of the company, to start to join him after four days. The men, then, must not only have started, but must be close to Pitic, as the two towns were only fifteen leagues apart, a distance which an armed body can easily cover between two suns; and yet, since his leaving the port, the count had received no news—no reply to his letters; and the company did not make its appearance.
What had happened since his leaving Guaymas? What new obstacles had been interposed to the movement of his company? Whence resulted this incomprehensible delay of four days? Why had not the officer left in charge informed him of what had occurred? Or had his couriers been interrupted on the road? Why had not Valentine or Curumilla, those two resolute and devoted men, for whom the greatest obstacles had no existence, come to warn him?
All these suppositions, and many others that offered themselves to the count's perplexed mind, threw him into a state of moral excitement impossible to describe. He knew not what to resolve, what means to employ, in order to acquire a certainty a hundred fold preferable to the doubt that gnawed him. At length, he decided on sending Don Cornelio, in whom he believed he could trust, at full gallop to Guaymas. That gentleman was out, however, and was sought for without being found.
This new obstacle culminated the count's feverish impatience. He mounted his horse, and started with the intention of exploring the environs of the town, in the secret hope of discovering some traces of his comrades, or at least learning some news about them. During the four hours he galloped in every direction, he saw nothing, and heard nothing. He turned back—a prey to a mighty sorrow, and heavy discouragement.
On approaching his house, the sound of a jarana reached his ears, and he hurried on his steed. Don Cornelio, carelessly seated on a stool in the porch of the house, was strumming his guitar, singing, as was his wont, his inevitable romance of King Rodrigo. On perceiving Don Louis, the Spaniard threw his instrument far from him, and rose with a cry of joy.
"At length!" he shouted.
"Why at length?" the count answered. "I consider the exclamation curious, since I have been searching after you, and could not lay my hand on you."
The Spaniard smiled mysteriously.
"I know it," he said; "but this place is not propitious for talking. Don Louis, will you permit me to accompany you to your cuarto?"
"With the greatest pleasure; the more so, as I also wish to speak with you."