"It is unnecessary, sir," said the count, coldly. "You are obeying orders, I presume, and doing what you consider your duty. Am I to be shot here, or taken to your chief?"
"It is much against my will," answered Herrera, "that I constrain you in any way. I am compelled to conduct you to General Rodil."
The count made no reply, but, turning his horse's head in the direction of the Christino camp, rode moodily onwards, followed, rather then accompanied, by his captor. A Carlist officer and three members of the rebel junta were the other prisoners. The lancers had all been cut to pieces.
The position in which Herrera now found himself was in the highest degree embarrassing and painful. Old affection and friendship were revived
by the sight of the count; and, had he obeyed his first impulse, he would frankly have expressed his sorrow at the chance which had thrown Villabuena into the hands of his foes, and have said what he could to console him under his misfortune. But the count's manner was so haughty and repulsive, and he so studiously avoided recognising in Luis any thing more than an opponent and a captor, that the words of kindness froze upon the young man's tongue, and during the few minutes that were required to rejoin the regiment, the silence remained unbroken. On reaching the spot where the cavalry was still halted, the detachment was received with loud congratulations on the successful issue of the expedition.
"Cleverly managed, Señor Herrera!" said the colonel; "and the prisoners are of importance. Take them yourself to the general."
In obedience to this order, Herrera moved off to the part of the field in which Rodil, surrounded by a numerous and brilliant staff, had taken his post.
"Ha!" said the general, when the young officer had made his report, his quick eye glancing at the prisoners, some of whom were known to him by sight. "Ha! you have done well, sir, and your conduct shall be favourably reported at Madrid. The Marquis of Torralva and Count Villabuena—an important capture this. Your name, sir—and yours, and yours?" said he sharply to the other prisoners.
The answers visibly increased his satisfaction. They were all men well known as zealous and influential partizans of the Pretender. Rodil paused an instant, and then turned to one of his aides-de-camp.
"A priest and a firing party," said he. "You have half an hour to prepare for death," he added, addressing the prisoners. "Rebels taken with arms in their hands can expect no greater favour."