"Pardon me for saying it, but you know what would be the consequences of indiscretion."
"They would be terrible. Continue."
"And you think yourself still in a position to answer for the discretion of this caballero?"
"As much as for my own, I repeat."
"Good; act in your own way, then," he continued.
"Listen," said the captain; "I can understand how you, who do not know this gentleman, may entertain secret anxiety; we are not engaged in child's play at this moment, we are risking our lives in a desperate undertaking; each of us has a right to demand of his companion a strict account of his conduct."
"Just so; it appears to me it ought to be so."
"Very well. This account I am going to give you. In spite of himself, and without having wished to do so, Don Émile has discovered secrets of the greatest importance. These secrets, I am convinced, he will keep at the bottom of his heart; but the certainty that I have you do not share: this is your right, and I have nothing to object to in it; but, with the design of merely reassuring you, I will take all the precautions, with respect to my friend, that you can demand. Of course, these precautions will have in them nothing to wound the honour or self-respect of Don Émile, whom I hold above all as my friend."
"I will act with the captain," briskly answered the young man; "and I place myself completely at your disposal as to anything you are pleased to exact from me. I humbly confess that politics cause me a shudder, and that I most sincerely regret to be so unfortunately discovered here, when it would have been so easy for me to have been elsewhere, where, without doubt, I should have been much better off."
The gravity of the Count was not proof against this speech, uttered with such despairing artlessness. He burst into laughter.