Quentin listened to what they said in the meetings that went on about him.
How far away his thoughts were in some instances! From time to time, Pacheco, or one of the conspirators put a question to him which he answered mechanically. His silence was taken for reflection.
Quentin excited the bandit’s self-esteem. He was waiting for the time when they would get the Count’s money so that he could take his share and skip off to Madrid. He did not wish this intention of his to become known, so he gave the bandit to understand that he wanted the money for revolutionary purposes only.
Every day Quentin played at the Casino and lost. He had bad luck. He had become tied up with money-lenders and was signing I. O. U.’s at eighty percent, with the healthy intention of never paying them.
After conferring with all the rowdies that came to see him, Pacheco consulted with Quentin. The bandit had romantic aspirations; at night he read books which narrated the stories of great battles; this stirred him up, and made him believe that he was a man born for a great purpose.
“Do you know what I’ve been thinking?” Pacheco said one afternoon to Quentin.
“What?”
“That if I have my people organized beforehand in order to win the battle of Alcolea, I shall become master of the town.”
“Don’t be foolish,” Quentin told him. “You aren’t strong enough for that.”
“No? You’ll see. I have more followers in the city than you think I have.”