The count, although his clothes were riddled with bullets, had not received a scratch: it seemed as if a charm protected him, for no one had spared his life less than himself during the fight. He had ever been in the thickest of the action, in advance of his comrades, encouraging them by word and deed, and only employing his sabre to ward off blows that came too near him.
So soon as the battle was over the count proceeded to the Cabildo, whither the Mexican authorities were convened, in order to settle with him as to the safety of the city. Don Cornelio had not left him during the fight: he had done his duty bravely by his side.
"Don Cornelio," he said to him, "I am pleased with you; you behaved most bravely. I wish to reward you by intrusting to you a mission of the highest importance. Are you too tired to get on horseback?"
"No, señor conde. Besides, you know that I am a thorough jinete."
"That is true. Here are two letters, one for Don Rafaël, which you will deliver in passing the Hacienda del Milagro: when you get in sight of La Magdalena you will tear the envelope off the other, and carry it to the address you will read on it; but in the event of your being stopped or taken prisoner on the road, that letter must not be found on you, and no one must know its contents. You understand me?"
"Perfectly, señor conde, and if necessary it shall be destroyed."
"Very good. Now get a fresh horse and start without the loss of a moment: it is a question of life and death."
"I start, Don Louis; you will hear of me again."
These words were accompanied by a sinister smile, which passed unnoticed by the count. Don Cornelio left the room, and five minutes later his horse's hoofs could be heard echoing on the pavement.
At this moment Valentine entered. The hunter's features, usually so calm, were convulsed, and he seemed suffering from extreme agitation. He looked around him on entering.