“Yes.”
Quentin kneeled on the floor and ducked himself twice. The waiters laughed, thinking that it was all from the effects of a convivial evening.
“Now my head is clear,” said Quentin.
“I’ll bring you a towel,” announced one of the boys. Quentin dried himself, and went into the street.
He walked rapidly toward Las Tendillas, where he found great excitement, and heard all sorts of comments and gossip. He asked a man where Pacheco was.
“He’s near the Plaza de la Trinidad now.”
Quentin ran on, opening a path through the crowd with his elbows.
“The man is an idiot,” he thought. “Could he have imagined that he was really going to head the Revolution?”
After a hard struggle, Quentin could see two horsemen riding at the head of the rabble. One of them was Pacheco; the other was his brother.
“Long live Liberty! Long live the Revolution!” shouted the bandit, waving his arm.