The Pincheyra, a man naturally very unsentimental, did not appreciate what the Montonero said to him. But, by reason of that species of innate vanity in all men, which leads them to attribute qualities to themselves which they do not possess—attracted, moreover, towards his own acquaintance by an inexplicable sympathy—he made no difficulty in agreeing to what Don Zeno Cabral asked him, and consented to let him act quite in his own way, inwardly flattered by the good opinion that the latter appeared to have of him, and anxious to prove to him that he was not deceived in him.
Matters thus arranged, Don Pablo requested—without entering into any details—his brother, Don Antonio, to inform the ladies of their approaching departure, and, going out with Don Zeno, he took him to visit the camp of Casa-Frama.
José Antonio, the third brother of Pincheyra, was a man of about twenty, of a melancholy disposition and limited intelligence, who accepted with bad grace the commission which had been given him; but he proceeded to acquit himself of it as quickly as possible.
He went, therefore, to the toldo inhabited by the two ladies.
They were alone, talking to each other, when the Pincheyra presented himself.
At sight of him they could not repress a movement of surprise—almost of fright, but they immediately recovered themselves, and returned the abrupt salute which he had given them without speaking to them, which led the marchioness to ask what was the reason of his visit.
"Señora," he replied, "my brother the colonel, Don Pablo Pincheyra, has requested me to give you notice to be ready to leave the camp tomorrow at sunrise."
"I thank you for this good news, caballero," coldly answered the marchioness.
"I do not know if the news is good or bad, and it's all one to me. I am ordered to tell you, and I do it—that is all. Now that my commission is done, adieu—I withdraw."
And, without further remark, he made a move to go away.