"You are mistaken, señor conde. You will surrender her or die."
"Neither one or the other," the impetuous Frenchman shouted, now perfectly recovered from his stunning fall. "I repeat that I will marry Doña Anita. If she does not love me, well, that is unfortunate. I hope that she will presently alter her opinion of me. The marriage suits me, and no one will succeed in breaking it off."
The unknown listened, a prey to violent emotion. His eyes flashed lightning, and he stamped his feet furiously; still he made an effort to master the feeling which agitated him, and replied in a slow and firm voice,—
"Take care of what you do, caballero. I have sworn to warn you, and have done so honestly. Heaven grant that my words find an echo in your heart, and that you follow the counsel I give you! The first time accident brings us together again one of us will die."
"I will take my precautions, be assured; but you are wrong not to profit by the present occasion to kill me, for it will not occur again."
The two strangers had by this time remounted.
"Count de Lhorailles," the unknown said again, as he bent over the Frenchman, "for the last time, take care, for I have a great advantage over you. I know you, and you do not know me. It will be an easy thing for me to reach you whenever I please. We are the sons of Indians and Spaniards. We feel a burning hatred: so take care."
After bowing ironically to the count he burst into a mocking laugh, spurred his horse, and started at headlong speed, followed by his silent companion. The count watched them disappear with a pensive air. When they were lost in the obscurity he tossed his head several times, as if to shake off the gloomy thoughts that oppressed him in spite of himself, then picked up his sabre and pistols, took his horse by the bridle, and walked slowly toward the pulquería, near which the fight had taken place.
The light which filtered through the badly-joined planks of the door, the songs and laughter that resounded from the interior, afforded a reasonable prospect of obtaining a temporary shelter in this house.
"Hum!" he muttered to himself as he walked along, "That bandit is right. He knows me, and I have no way of recognising him. By Jupiter, I have a good sound hatred on my shoulders! But nonsense!" he added, "I was too happy. I wanted an enemy. On my soul, let him do as he will! Even if Hades combine against me, I swear that nothing will induce me to resign the hand of Doña Anita."