In order to account for this sudden miscarriage of the colonel’s plans, we must turn aside to state that the princess, being of an active disposition, and not easily tired, had said to Pedro that evening, when his detachment was encamping under a group of trees not far from the estancia, that she would ride back to the main body to see her father.
“But my strict orders are,” said Pedro, “that I am to keep you with the advance-guard, and you know that your father is not a man to be disobeyed.”
“Quite true,” returned the princess, looking with a solemn expression down at Pedro—for she was still on horseback, while he and his men were dismounted, preparing the camp. “You must on no account disobey my father, Pedro.”
“Well then, you see,” returned the guide, with an amused look, “I cannot give you permission to leave us.”
“Of course not. That would be insubordination, Pedro, would it not? which, in time of war, is punishable, I think, with death. I would never think of asking permission, or tempting you to disobey. I will be sure to tell my father that you positively refused to let me go. Adieu, Senhor Pedro. A good appetite and sweet repose!”
She touched her splendid horse with a switch, and next moment was flying over the Pampas at a pace that rendered pursuit useless.
Dismounting and fastening her steed to a tree, she passed through the garden towards the house, and naturally, as we have seen, came upon Lawrence.
“Manuela!” he exclaimed.
“Si, senhor,” she replied.
He advanced a step with outstretched arms, and then, checking himself, clasped his hands.