“You have muffled their hoofs?”
“Every one, Señorita.”
“Oh! what shall we do with him,” continued the lady in a tone of distress, and pointing toward the zaguan. “We shall not be able to pass out before papa returns, and then it may be too late. Santisima!”
“Señorita, why not serve the portero as I have done the girl? I’m strong enough for that.”
“Oh, Vicenza! how have you secured her?”
“In the garden-house,—tied, gagged, and locked up. I warrant she’ll not turn up till somebody finds her. No fear of her, Señorita. I’ll do the same for the portero, if you but say the word.”
“No—no—no! who would open the gate for papa? No—no—no! it would not do.” She reflected. “And yet, if he gets out before the horses are ready, they will soon miss—pursue—overtake him. He will get out, I am sure of it. How long would it occupy him? not long. He will easily undo his cord fastenings. I know that—he once said he could. Oh, holy Virgin! he may now be free, and waiting for me! I must haste—the portero—Ha!”
As she uttered this exclamation she turned suddenly to Andres. A new plan seemed to have suggested itself.
“Andres! good Andres! listen! We shall manage it yet!”
“Si, Señorita.”