"Answer me, I implore yon, Don Juan," he said, pressingly. "Whatever you may think, whatever opinion you may have of me, I wish to know it; it must be so."
"Do not press me, I beg, Don Felix. What can you care for any opinion I may have, which is isolated and unimportant?"
"What can I care, do you ask?" he exclaimed, hotly; "but it is, indeed, useless to press you farther, for I know all I wish to know. Thank you, Don Juan, I ask no more. When a man of so noble a character and such a loyal heart as yours condemns the conduct of another man, it is because that conduct is really blameable."
"Well, be it so; since you absolutely insist, I will explain my views, Don Felix. Yes, I blame but do not condemn you, for I cannot and will not be your judge. Don Felix, I am internally convinced in my soul and conscience that the man who makes himself, no matter the motive that impels him, the agent of treachery, commits worse than a crime, for he is guilty of an act of cowardice! Such a man I can pity, but no longer esteem."
The ex-Mayor-domo listened to these harsh words with a forehead dripping with perspiration, but with head erect and eye sparkling with a gloomy fire. When the officer stopped he bowed coldly and took the hand which Don Juan did not attempt to draw from his grasp.
"It is well," he said; "your words are rude, but they are true. I thank you for your frankness, Don Juan; I know now what remains for me to do."
The Colonel, who had involuntarily allowed his feelings of the moment to carry him away, fancied that he had gone too far, and was alarmed at the consequences of his imprudence.
"Don Felix," he added, "forgive me; I spoke to you like a madman."
"Come, come, Don Juan," he replied, with a bitter smile, "do not attempt to recall your words, you were but the echo of my conscience; what you have said aloud my heart has often whispered to me. Fear not that I shall let myself be overcome by a passing feeling of passion. No! I am one of those men who, when they have once entered a path, persevere in it at all hazards. But enough of this; I notice a dust, which probably announces our friends," he added, with a poignant irony. "Farewell, Don Juan, farewell."
And, not waiting for the answer Don Juan was preparing to give him, Don Felix spurred his horse, turned hastily round, and went off as rapidly as he had come. The Colonel looked after him for a moment thoughtfully.