A Grumbling Guard.
Part of the dialogue between Santander and the hunchback was overheard by José—enough of it to give him the trembles. Among its revelations was nought relating to himself, or his connivance at the escape of the prisoners. For all, he could see that he was now in as much danger as they who were in hiding. The Colonel of Hussars had gone on to the city, perhaps to complete some duty already engaging him, but as likely to obtain a stronger force. And as his words told, he would return again; and no doubt make direct for the old monastery, the dwarf guiding him.
The first thought of the faithful cochero was not about himself, nor his horses. These might stay in the meadow all night, as they were now likely to do. The lives of men were at stake—his own among the number—and his sole purpose now was to get home, report what he had heard to his young mistress and the Condesa; then hasten up the mountain to warn the imperilled ones. As good luck would have it, he knew the place they were in. Son of a carbonero, when a boy he had helped his father in the charcoal-burning business; was familiar with the mountain forests, and their paths, and had more than once been at the abandoned monastery. He could easily find the way to it. But the difficulty was to get back to his master’s house—even stir from the spot on which he stood. Soon as receiving their orders the two Hussars had dismounted, and tied up their horses, one on each side of the rocky embayment; they themselves, with their curious charge, occupying the space between. It was not possible to pass without being seen by them, and as surely seized.
So long as he kept his place he might feel comparatively safe. The cove was of a three-cornered shape, with luckily a deep dark cleft at its inner angle, into which he had already squeezed himself. While the moon remained low, and the cliff made shadow, there was little likelihood of their seeing him, unless they came close up. Still, the situation was aught but pleasant, and ere long became irksome in the extreme; the conversation to which he was compelled to listen making it so.
The two Husares did not seem, to be in the best of temper; the corporal more especially showing signs of dissatisfaction. Groping about for a stone to seat himself on, he grumbled out—
“Maddita! What a bore, having to stay here till they get back. Heaven knows when that will be. Like enough not before morning. I thought we were going to pass the night in San Augustin, and had hopes of a chat with that muchachita at the house where the colonel visits.”
“Pepita, you mean—lady’s maid to the Doña Luisa Valverde?”
“Of course I mean her, the pretty dear; and have reason to think she is a bit sweet upon me.”
Josh’s heart was on fire—his blood boiling. It was with difficulty he restrained himself from springing out upon the soldier and clutching him by the throat. He succeeded, however, in keeping his place, if not his temper; for it would have been sheer madness to show himself there and then. What came after quite tranquillised him.
“Well, cabo” returned he of the rank and file, seemingly without fear of speaking plain to the non-commissioned officer, “I should be sorry to dash your hopes; but as a friend I can’t help saying I don’t think you have much chance in that quarter. She’s a step higher, that same Pepita; holds her head far above any of us common soldiers—”