Don Antonio, while the guerillero was laying down the matter so distinctly, suffered from a dull wrath, which was twenty times on the point of bursting forth, but fortunately he restrained it, and succeeded in retaining his coolness.
"Well, then, what do you desire?" he asked him in a choking voice.
"Nothing for the present, señor; let us finish our resolution. So soon as we enter Mexico—which I hope both for you and me will not be long first—you will take me to a banker I know: he will be responsible for the sum, and all will be settled. Does that suit you?"
"I can't help myself; but till then?"
"We have more pressing matters to attend to. Some days more or less are of no consequence, and now that we have nothing more to say to each other for the present, permit me to take leave of you, my dear sir."
"You are at liberty to retire, señor," don Antonio replied drily.
"I kiss your hands, my dear sir, and trust I shall see you again shortly."
"Farewell."
Don Felipe bowed cavalierly to the Spaniard, turned on his heels, rejoined his cuadrilla, and set off at full speed, followed by his partisans.
As for don Antonio, he went back pensively and slowly to Mexico, where he arrived two hours later.