“This is the first time I have ever seen him,” replied Tarsilo, looking with a certain pity on the other.
The alferez gave him a cuff with his fist and kicked him.
“Tie him to the bench!”
Without taking off the bloody handcuffs, he was fastened to the wooden bench. The unhappy fellow looked about him as if in search of some one, and his eyes fell on Doña Consolacion. He smiled sardonically. Those present were surprised and followed his glance and saw the señora. She was biting her lips.
“I have never seen an uglier woman,” exclaimed Tarsilo amid the general silence. “I prefer to lie down on this bench as I am doing than to lie by her side, like the alferez.”
The Muse turned pale.
“You are going to whip me to death, alferez,” he continued, “but to-night I will be avenged by your woman.”
“Gag him!” shouted the alferez, furious and trembling with rage.
It seemed as though Tarsilo had wanted the gag, for when he had it in his mouth, his eyes gleamed with a ray of satisfaction.
At a signal from the alferez a guard, armed with a whip, began his cruel task. The whole body of Tarsilo shrank. A groan, suppressed and prolonged, could be heard in spite of the rag which stopped up his mouth. He lowered his head. His clothes were being stained with blood.