"Truly, they are well and wisely avoided," said the Spaniard through his clenched teeth, while his face became distorted and convulsed by concentrated hate and passion. "Save myself and another, my whole family have perished under their hands. Not even our aged mother was spared, for she died like my helpless old father by their bayonets, on the night that Junot entered Salamanca; and well would it have been if some of the young had suffered the same fate first. I had three sisters, senor—three lovelier girls, or three more loving, good, and gentle, God's blessed sun never shone on. Two suffered such wrongs on that night of horrors at Salamanca, that they could not or would not survive them; the youngest, Isidora, happily escaped by being in the convent of Santa Engracia, at Portalegre."
Impressed by the undoubted earnestness of the Spaniard, Quentin said—
"I am bound to the frontier, bearer of a secret despatch."
"To whom?"
"Honour ties my tongue for the present, senor."
"Enough, then; continue to pursue this road for some miles, you will find a branch to the left where it runs parallel with the river Figuero, and leads to Castello de Vide. Proceed straight on and you will come to Marvao; six miles further on is Valencia de Alcantara, garrisoned by the French; cross the river Sever, and a league or so further brings you to Herreruela. Ere long I, too, shall be there, so we may meet again; but remember that the whole country swarms with the accursed French, and that your red coat will ensure your captivity or death."
"I shall be wary."
"Be so, or, Santos! I would not give a claco for your life! Do you see yonder hill?" asked the Spaniard, pointing to a lofty peak—the highest of the mountain range.
"Yes—a vapour hovers near it."
"I am going there to see what news the eagles have for the loyal Portuguese."