"Yes, unless the sky falls!" he said, with a smile.
[CHAPTER VII.]
A COUNTERMINE.
As Trangoil-Lanec had predicted, Louis recovered from the effects of his wounds with surprising rapidity. Whether it was owing to his ardent desire to commence his researches, or to the goodness of his condition, we will not say; but on the eve of the day fixed for the departure he was quite on the alert, and told Don Tadeo he was ready to start whenever he pleased.
He was the more anxious to depart in that Valentine, his dog Cæsar, and Trangoil-Lanec had been absent three days, and no tidings had been received. Curumilla had not come back. All these circumstances augmented in an enormous degree the impatience of the count; whilst, on his part, Don Tadeo was not much more easy. The poor father shuddered at the idea of the suffering to which his child was exposed.
And yet there was mingled an undefinable joy at thinking of the tortures he should inflict, in his turn, upon Doña Maria, when revealing to her that the person she had taken so much delight in martyrizing was her own daughter. Don Tadeo, a man of elevated mind, endeavoured to shake off this unworthy thought, but it persisted in recurring with tenacity.
Don Gregorio, in whose hands Don Tadeo had placed his power and authority, urged on by Louis, hastened the preparations for the departure on the morrow. At about eight o'clock in the evening. Don Gregorio, after giving certain instructions in one of the private apartments of the cabildo to General Cornejo and the senator Sandias, who were to conduct Don Pancho to Santiago, had dismissed them, and was conversing with Don Tadeo, when the door was thrown open, and a man entered. On seeing him, they uttered a general cry of joy and astonishment. It was Curumilla!
"At last!" Louis and Don Tadeo exclaimed.
"I am here!" the Ulmen replied, sorrowfully.