"All right!" he said, clutching the weapons to his chest; "Now I am no longer afraid of them."
"Good! That is how I wished you to feel. Remember this: the horses are waiting ready saddled down there on the right, at the foot of the hill. If we succeed in reaching them, we are saved."
"Whatever happens, thanks, don Antonio. If Heaven decrees that we shall escape—"
"Promise me nothing," don Antonio said, quickly; "there will be time hereafter to settle our accounts."
The monk gave his penitent absolution. A few minutes elapsed. At length don Melchior rose with a firm and assured countenance, for he was certain of not dying unavenged. The masked men suddenly reappeared, and once more crowned the top of the hill. The one who hitherto had alone spoken, approached the condemned man, by whose side don Antonio had stationed himself, as if to exhort him in his last moments.
"Are you ready?" the stranger asked.
"I am," don Melchior coldly replied.
"Prepare the gallows, and light the torches!" the masked man ordered.
There was a great movement in the crowd, and a momentary disorder. The members were so convinced that flight was impossible, and besides, it was so improbable that the condemned man should attempt to escape his fate, that for two or three minutes they relaxed their watchfulness. Don Melchior and his friend took advantage of this moment of forgetfulness.
"Come!" don Antonio said, hurling to the earth the man nearest him. "Follow me!"