John Davis reflected for a moment, and then said, as he offered him his hand, "You are a worthy monk. I see that you are faithful to the pledge of amendment you made. I am sorry for what I did."
"I will say the same, Señor," the Colonel remarked; "I was far from expecting such generosity on your part."
"One word, now, Señores."
"Speak," they said, "we are listening."
"Promise me not to renew that impious duel, and follow my example by forgetting your hatred."
The two men stretched out their hand with a simultaneous movement.
"That is well," he continued, "I am happy to see you act thus. Now let us separate. You, Colonel, will mount and return to camp—the road is free, and no one will try to oppose your passing. As for you, John Davis, please to follow me. Your long absence has caused a degree of alarm which your presence will doubtless dissipate. I had orders to try and obtain news of you."
"Good-bye for the present," the Colonel said; "forget, Señor Davis, what passed between us at the outset of our meeting, and merely remember the manner in which we separate."
"May we, Colonel, meet again under happier auspices, when I may be permitted to express to you all the sympathy with which your frank and loyal character inspires me."
After exchanging a few words more, and cordially shaking hands, the three men separated. Colonel Melendez set off at a gallop in the direction of the rancho, while the monk and Davis started at an equal pace in exactly the opposite direction. It was about midnight when the Colonel reached the main guard, where an aide-de-camp of the General was waiting for him. A certain degree of animation appeared to prevail in the rancho. Instead of sleeping, as they might be expected to be doing at so late an hour, the soldiers were traversing the streets in large numbers; in short, an extreme agitation was visible everywhere.