"Good! That is to say—"
"That is to say, that I have myself carried the news of your defeat to your friends; that tonight twenty-five horsemen will arrive here, where we shall conceal them, whilst fifty others will await your return to Vado del Nandus, ambuscaded in the rocks."
"Perfectly arranged all that—perfectly, my master," said the Spaniard, in a joyous tone. "But why should I not go myself, just to meet my friends? That would simplify matters very much, it appears to me. I do not expect to be a second time defeated, as I was last night. I do not propose this out of self-love, you know, especially as I hope someday or other to have my revenge."
"All that is just, Don Santiago," answered the Indian, "but you forget that I have asked you to render me a service."
"That is true! I do not know where my brains are at this moment; excuse me, I beg, and be convinced that I am still at your disposal."
"I thank you. Now, master," added he, turning towards the young man, "it is necessary that this very day the ladies that you know should quit San Miguel; tomorrow would be too late. You must go immediately and resume your disguise, and repair to the convent. It is but about two leagues from here to the convent. You will arrive just at sunset, only you must make haste."
"The devil!" murmured the painter, "But how shall I conduct these ladies here."
"Do not let that disturb you, master; at the gate of the convent a guide will await you, who will bring you safely here."
"And that guide?"
"Will be me, master."