"That is right," said don Zeno Cabral, who was evidently dragging out the conversation, and hesitated to attack the point of it really interesting to him.
The captain was again silent.
Don Zeno resumed, after a short pause, fidgeting his sabre knot with suppressed ill temper.
"But, in a word, what have you done?"
At this moment one of the prisoners motioned the captain on one side with a sudden gesture, and taking a step in advance—
"Do you not know, Don Zeno Cabral?" she said, in a haughty voice, throwing on her shoulders, with a gesture full of nobility, the rebozo of black lace which veiled her face.
The officers stifled a cry of admiration at the sight of the sovereign beauty of this woman.
Don Zeno Cabral took a step backward, biting his lips with vexation, while his countenance became covered with a mortal paleness.
"Madame," said he, with closed teeth, "you are a prisoner, and must only speak—do not forget that—when you are questioned."
A smile of contempt curled the lips of the lady. She slightly shrugged her shoulders, and fixed on the general a look with such an expression that, in spite of himself, he turned away his eyes.