“Oh! I don’t require your solemn word,” cried the bandit, impudently presenting himself by the side of Don Mariano. “Inside here I have two hostages, that will answer for my life better than your word. You wish me to show myself. What want you with me, Señor Captain?”
With the veins of his forehead swollen almost to bursting, his lip quivering with rage, and his eyes on fire, Don Rafael looked upon the assassin of his father—the man whom he had so long vainly pursued—the brigand, in fine, whom he could seize in a moment, and yet was compelled to let escape. No wonder that it cost him an effort to subdue the impetuous passions that were struggling in his breast.
Involuntarily his hand closed upon the reins of his bridle, and his spurs pressed against the flanks of his horse, till the animal, tormented by the touch, reared upwards, and bounded forward almost to the walls of the hacienda.
One might have fancied that his rider intended to clear the obstacle that separated him from his cowardly enemy—who, on his part, could not restrain himself from making a gesture of affright.
“That which I wish of the brigand Arroyo,” at length responded the Captain, “is to fix his features in my memory, so that I may know them again, when I pursue him, to drag his living body after the heels of my horse.”
“If it is to promise me only such favours that you have called me out—” said the bandit, making a motion to re-enter the chamber.
“Stay—hear me!” cried Don Rafael, interrupting him with a gesture; “your life is safe. I have said it. Humanity has compelled me to spare you.”
“Carrambo! I am grateful, Captain; I know the act is to your taste.”
“Gratitude from you would be an insult; but if in the red ditch-water that runs through your heart there be a spark of courage, mount your horse, choose what arms you please, and come forth. I defy you to single combat!”
Don Rafael in pronouncing this challenge rose erect in his stirrups. His countenance, noble and defiant, presented a strange contrast to the aspect of vulgar ferocity that characterised the features of the man thus addressed. The insult was point blank, and would have aroused the veriest poltroon; but Arroyo possessed only the courage of the vulture.