"That is true: if only to lull suspicion to sleep, he will do so. I will be off to the hacienda at once."
"Go, my friend: unfortunately I cannot accompany you."
"It is unnecessary. I swear that if this devil's own Don Cornelio falls into my hands, I will crush him like the viper he is. Good-by."
The hunter hurriedly left the Cabildo, and a few minutes later, followed by Belhumeur, Black Elk, Curumilla, and Eagle-head, he was galloping at full speed along the road to the hacienda.
The count then occupied himself, before taking a moment's rest, in organising the tranquillity and security of the city. As most of the Mexican authorities had taken flight, he appointed others, had the dead buried, and arranged an hospital for the sick, the direction of which he gave to Father Seraphin, whose evangelic devotion was beyond all praise.
Posts and main guards were established, and patrols received orders to march about the city in order to maintain tranquillity—a useless measure of precaution, for the inhabitants appeared as joyful as the French. The streets were hung with flags, and on all sides could be heard shouts of "Long live France! long live Sonora!" repeated with an expression of indescribable satisfaction.
When the count had discharged these imperious duties, his mind being no longer over-excited by the necessity of the moment, nature, conquered for an instant, gained the upper hand with an extreme of reaction, and Don Louis fell back almost fainting into the chair where he had been working without relaxation for nearly eight hours. He remained thus without help until a late hour of the night, for he had not the strength to call for assistance.
At length Captain de Laville entered to make his chief a report about the result of the pursuit of the Mexicans. He was terrified at the state in which he found Don Louis; for the count was suffering from a violent fever, attended by delirium. The captain immediately summoned the company's surgeon, and the count was laid in a hastily-prepared bed.
The surgeon could not be found, and a Mexican doctor came in his stead. This man declared that the count was suffering from an attack of dysentery, and made him drink a potion which he prepared at once. The count fell into a species of lethargic sleep which lasted ten hours. Fortunately the company's surgeon at length arrived. After a glance at the count, and examining the few drops of the potion left in the glass, the doctor immediately had eggs beaten in milk administered to the count, and ordered all his limbs to be rubbed with hot napkins.
"Why, doctor," the captain remarked to him, "what sort of treatment is this? The physician assured me that the count had the dysentery."