"An evil day, Corso," said Diego, caressing his horse, which lowered and then lifted his beautiful head as if to assent to his master's words, and say to him, "What matter since I have saved you?"
"I treat thee shamefully, my son," continued the chief, who loved his horse the more fondly because he loved no other creature. The horse, as if he had understood, neighed gaily, and, rising on his hind feet, balanced himself, and then dropped down upon all four beside his master, presenting his head to be caressed.
"What will become of thee if l am taken?" said the robber, leaning his head against the neck of the animal, which now stood motionless.
"Truly," said Diego, seating himself by the fire in front of Perico, "it is to you we owe our escape to-day with so little loss."
"To me?" asked Perico surprised.
"Yes," answered the captain; "the troop was commanded by a brave officer, who knew the country, and did not mean child's play. The son of the Countess of Villaoran. He would have given us work if you had not killed him."
"God have mercy on me!" exclaimed Perico, springing to his feet and raising his clasped hands to heaven. "What are you saying? The son of the countess was there, and I killed him?"
"What shocks you?" replied Diego.
"Perhaps you thought we were firing sugar-plums? Heavens!" he added impatiently, "you exasperate me! One would take you for a travelling player, with all your attitudes and extravagances. By all that's sacred, the convict is right. You missed your vocation; instead of choosing a life of freedom you should have turned friar. Come! keep watch," he added, wrapping himself in his mantle, and lying down with a stone under his head and his carbine between his knees.
His words were lost upon Perico. The unhappy man tore his hair and cursed himself in his despair. He had killed the son of the mistress and benefactress of his uncles, his own companion of childhood.