"No!" the count answered resolutely, "it is too late now: to hesitate or recoil would be cowardly. I must go on at all risks. Announce me to our new friends."
"Come on, then."
They walked to the end of the passage, where a closed door checked their progress. Valentine tapped thrice at equal intervals with the hilt of his machete.
"Who is there?" a voice asked from inside.
"The man expected a long time, though you did not dare hope that he would come," Valentine answered.
"He is welcome," the voice added.
At this moment the door opened, the two men entered, and it closed again on them immediately. They then found themselves in a large room with whitewashed walls, and the floor of beaten earth. The furniture consisted of benches, on which were seated some fifty men, some of whom wore an ecclesiastical garb. Curtains of red serge placed before the windows took off the glare, while at the same time preventing anyone outside seeing what was going on. On the entrance of the count and Valentine, all rose and uncovered themselves respectfully.
"Caballeros," Valentine said, "according to my promise, I have the honour to present to you the Count de Prébois Crancé, who has consented to accompany me in order to hear the propositions you have to make to him."
All bowed ceremoniously to the count, and he returned their bows with that grace and amenity peculiar to him. A man of a certain age, with an elegant and intelligent face, and dressed in the magnificent costume of the rich hacenderos, advanced and addressed the hunter.
"Pardon me, sir," he said with a slightly ironical accent, "I believe you have made a small mistake."