"With her father?" I echoed, in astonishment. "How can he take a delicate child like that into a rough camp?"
"His house is not a rough camp, Juan!"
The truth did not strike me at first, so I said innocently, "Oh, has he been wounded and obtained permission to be nursed at home? Is he seriously hurt?"
"He is quite well, I believe, and is one of us."
"Felipe Montilla turned Patriot?" I cried in amazement.
Now let me not be misunderstood. I honestly believed our cause just. In my small way I had ventured my life for the independence of Peru, and was quite ready to venture it again. But this man had boasted his loyalty to the Spanish king, had fought under his flag, had taken high rank in his army! He had accepted from him both honours and broad lands, and then at the first reverse in his fortunes had slunk away like a whipped cur.
"A fig for such Patriots!" cried I hotly. "Were I San Martin, he should be whipped back to the men he has deserted. Give me a loyal friend or a stout enemy, I care not which; but these jellyfish—bah! they are an abomination."
"You are young, my boy, and not quite wise enough to understand these things. Is it not to Don Felipe's credit that he should openly confess his mistake?"
"And save his estates into the bargain," said I wrathfully. "Let the Spaniards get the upper hand, and you will find him back in their ranks quickly enough."
"A man must follow the guiding of his conscience, even if it lead to his advantage," remarked my mother quietly. "But if you are indignant with Don Felipe, you will be equally delighted with Rosa. She is still Loyalist to the core, and makes no secret of it. She told San Martin the other day that he was a busybody, meddling in affairs that did not concern him, and that the people of Peru could settle their disputes without his interference."