"Why so?" Don Miguel asked in a low voice.
"Canarios! he has sent us a priest, which means that we shall be executed tomorrow."
"On my word, all the better," Don Miguel could not refrain from saying.
In the meanwhile the jailer, a short, thick-set man, with a ferret face and cunning eye, had turned to the priest, whom he invited to enter, saying in a hoarse voice,—
"Here it is, señor padre: these are the condemned persons."
"Will you leave us alone, my friend?" the stranger said.
"Will you have my lantern? It is getting dark, and when people are talking they like to see one another."
"Thanks; you can do so. You will open when I call you by tapping at the door."
"All right—I will do so;" and he turned to the condemned, to whom he said savagely, "Well, señores, here is a priest. Take advantage of his services now you have got him. In your position there is no knowing what may happen from one moment to the other."
The prisoners shrugged their shoulder's contemptuously, but made no reply. The jailer went out. When the sound of his footsteps had died away in the distance, the priest, who had till this moment stood with his body bent forward and his ear on the watch, drew himself up, and walked straight to Don Miguel. This manoeuvre on the part of the stranger surprised the two gentlemen, who anxiously awaited what was about to happen. The lantern left by the jailer only spread a faint and flickering light, scarcely sufficient to distinguish objects.