The missionary interposed.
"Gentlemen," he said in his sympathetic voice, "between you there is no enmity at this moment: there is only a father who claims his daughter from a gentleman who, I feel convinced, will not refuse to restore her to him."
"Heaven forbid, my father," the count said quickly, "that I should attempt to retain this man's daughter against her will, even were he a thousandfold a greater enemy than he is."
"You see, general," the missionary observed, "that I was not mistaken as to the count's character."
"Doña Angela came alone, impelled by her own will, into my camp: she is respected and treated with all the attention she merits. Doña Angela is free to act as she pleases, and I recognise no right to influence her. As I did not carry her off from her father, as I did nothing to attract her hither, I cannot restore her, as this gentleman appears to demand. If Doña Angela is willing to return to her friends, nobody will oppose it; but if, on the contrary, she prefers to remain here under the protection of my brave comrades and myself, no human power will succeed in tearing her from me."
These words were pronounced in a peremptory tone, which produced a marked impression on the two hearers.
"However, gentlemen," the count continued, "what we say between ourselves has no value so long as Doña Angela has not pronounced herself in one way or the other. I will have the honour of leading you to her. You will have an explanation with her, and she will tell you her determination. Still, permit me to warn you that, whatever that decision may be, both yourselves and myself are bound to submit to it."
"Be it so, sir," the general said dryly: "perhaps it is as well that way as any other."
"Come, then," the count continued.
And he preceded them to the hut which served as the maiden's private residence.