"A formality, what is it?"
"That of the hostages."
"Hostages! Have you not my word?"
"Of course."
"Well, what more do you want?"
"As I told you, hostages: you can perfectly understand, señor, that I would not confide my life and that of my companions, I will not say to you, for I hold your word and believe it good, but to your soldiers, who, like the worthy guerilleros they are, would have not the slightest scruple, if we had the madness to place ourselves in their power, about plundering us and perhaps worse: you do not command regular troops, señor, and however strict may be the discipline you maintain in your cuadrilla, I doubt whether it goes so far as to make your prisoners respected, when you are not there to protect them by your presence."
Cuéllar, flattered in his heart by the count's remarks, gave him a gracious smile.
"Hum," he said, "what you say may be true up to a certain point. Well, who are the hostages you desire, and how many are they?"
"Only one, señor, you see that it is very trifling."
"Very trifling, indeed; but who is this hostage?"