"Yes," don Melchior replied hoarsely.
The count, after whispering a few words to the majordomo, again addressed Cuéllar.
"Señor," he said to him, "be kind enough to give orders for the peons to be brought here: then, while you remain with us, Ño Leo Carral will go and make all the preparations for our departure."
"Good," said Cuéllar, "the majordomo can go about his business: you hear, my men," he added, turning to the guerilleros who still stood motionless, "this man is free, bring the peons here."
Some fifteen poor wretches, with their clothes in rags, covered with blood, but armed as had been agreed, then entered the drawing room: these fifteen men were all that remained of the defenders of the hacienda. Cuéllar then entered the room in the doorway of which he had been hitherto standing, and without being invited to do it, posted himself behind the barricade. Don Melchior, feeling the false position in which he was placed, now that he remained alone, facing the besieged, turned away to retire; but at this moment don Andrés rose, and addressed him in a loud and imperious voice.
"Stay, Melchior," he said to him, "we cannot separate thus: now, that we shall never meet again in this world, a final explanation between us is necessary—even indispensable."
Don Melchior started at the sound of this voice: he turned pale, and made a movement as if he wished to fly, but then suddenly halted and haughtily raising his head, said—
"What do you want with me? Speak, I am listening to you."
For a very considerable period, the old man stood with his eyes fixed on his son with a strangely blended expression of love, anger, grief and contempt, and at length making a violent effort on himself, he spoke as follows:
"Why wish to withdraw, is it because the crime you have committed horrifies you, or are you really flying with fury in your heart at seeing your parricide foiled and your father saved in spite of all your efforts to rob him of life? God has not permitted the complete success of your sinister projects: He chastens me for my weakness for you and the place you have usurped in my heart: I pay very dearly for a moment of error, but at length the veil that covered my eyes has fallen. Go, wretch, marked on the brow by an indelible stigma, be accursed! And may this curse which I pronounce on you, weigh eternally on your heart! Go, parricide, I no longer know you."