Morning of January 8th, 1815. Early dawn; an approach to New Orleans, swamp land; cypress trees, draped in Spanish moss; Batteries 3 and 4—the pirates of Barataria—stationed about in the distance; enter Beluche.
BEL. (to two or three of his men.) Remember: Wellington’s soldiers are to be dealt with; twelve thousand to five. Relieve the forward watch. (men salute and exeunt; Beluche looks after them; sighs; walks a few steps with bowed head; takes out the little picture he had found on Pedro in Barataria; looks at it long and intently, enter agitatedly, Bella.)
BELLA. (timidly, yet desperately.) Can you tell me if Dominique You be here?
BEL. (looks up; starts; looks at his picture; looks at Bella; puts the picture in his pocket.) He is.
BELLA. May I see him?
BEL. (coldly.) No—
BELLA. Just a moment—
BEL. (brusquely.) Is not your name Cardez?
BELLA. Yes.