There were, indeed, a dozen Montoneros in the cavern.
With a delicacy which, in such a man, would not have been suspected, the Montonero approached the two ladies, whom, notwithstanding their costume, he had discovered, and, bowing to them as he presented them with silk neckerchiefs—
"Cover your faces, ladies," said he, respectfully. "It will be better for no one to know who you are. At a later time you would not, perhaps, be much pleased to be recognised by one of the companions whom fate gives you today."
"Thank you, Señor; you are really a caballero," graciously answered the marchioness; and, without any further remark, she concealed her features with the neckerchief, and in this she was immediately imitated by her daughter.
This happy thought of the Montonero preserved the incognito of the fugitives.
"As to us," continued he, addressing the painter, "we are men capable of answering for our acts, are we not?"
"It is of little consequence for us to be recognised," answered the latter; "but what hinders us from setting out? Is everything ready?"
"Everything is ready; I have a numerous troop of bold companions concealed like guanacos in the thicket. We will leave when you like."
"Well, I think the sooner the better."
"Let us go, then."