"By Jove!"
At this moment the escort appeared. Louis and Valentine mounted. It was hardly six in the morning; the country was deserted; at each puff of wind the trees shook their branches, which were damp with the abundant bright dew, and caused a gentle shower which rustled on the bushes; the sun sucked up the dense vapour that rose from the ground; and the birds, hidden in the foliage, woke up singing. The two friends, slightly in advance of their escort, rode pensively side by side, with the bridle on their horses' necks, and gazing vacantly at the magnificent landscape which lay expanded before them. The first houses of the pueblo, gaily enframed in clumps of floripondios and vines, were visible from a turning in the road. Don Louis raised his head.
"Well," he said, as if answering his own thoughts, "I swear this shall be the last time that General Guerrero mocks me thus. It is plain that Colonel Suarez only came to my camp to see for himself in what condition we were."
"For nothing else."
"Where are we going now?"
"To a cockfight."
"A cockfight!" the count said in surprise.
The hunter looked at him significantly.
"Yes," he said to him, "you know, perhaps—or, if you do not, I will tell you—that the finest cockfights take place annually at La Magdalena at the period of the festival."
"Ah!" Louis said indifferently.