The Vice-Consul of the United States, indignant at this unjust sentence, but not having the power to act officially, proceeded to Don Antonio Pavo with the hope of inducing him to act energetically, and save the count. Don Antonio refused. While protesting the sorrow he felt, nothing could make him recall his refusal.
Still Don Antonio understood that he could not refrain from paying a visit to the count. Valentine was with him, as well as Father Seraphin. The hunter had obtained leave to remain with his foster brother till the last moment. The count received Don Antonio with an icy face. He contented himself with shrugging his shoulders in contempt when the latter tried to exculpate himself, and alleviate all that was reprehensible in his conduct. The count handed him several papers, and, interrupting him roughly in the midst of a very involved sentence, in which he was trying to prove how innocent he was of all imputed to him, said dryly,—
"Listen to me, sir. I am willing, if it is of any use to you, to give you a letter, in which I acknowledge that your conduct toward me was always irreproachable; but on one condition——"
"What is it, sir?" he asked eagerly.
"I do not wish to be shot on my knees, and with my eyes bandaged. You understand me, sir? I want to look death in the face. Go and arrange that with the governor."
"That favour shall be granted you, I can assure you, sir," he answered, delighted at having been let off so easily.
He went out and kept his word. What did the count's enemies care whether he fell standing or on his knees, with eyes bandaged or not? Their great object was that he should be dead. Still General Guerrero profited by this opportunity to appear generous at a small cost.
The next day but one Valentine brought Doña Angela with him: the maiden had donned that monk's robe which she had already worn under critical circumstances.
"Is it for today?" the count asked.
"Yes," Valentine answered.