"He refuses, but says he must see you."
"Go you, Marcelino, and see if you know him. He may be some messenger from Liniers."
Marcelino went out, but quickly returned, bringing with him a tall man of middle age, with strikingly handsome features. The stranger entered first, and throwing aside his cloak and hat disclosed the undress uniform of a field-officer.
"Don Gregorio, I kiss your feet," said he, bowing to that gentleman. "Señores todos, felices noches," he added, as he cast a quick, searching glance round the room.
"No fear; all are friends," said Marcelino, as he closed the door.
"Liniers! Liniers!" exclaimed many of those present, as they rose from their seats to bid him welcome, and to congratulate him upon his recent feat of arms, while Don Gregorio left his place at the table and walked towards him with outstretched hand.
"My friend, I am glad to see you," said Don Gregorio. "A number of my friends have come here together this evening to consult upon what measures we shall adopt now that the authorities have either submitted to the English or have fled. You are a soldier; this is not the first time you have seen service; we should be glad to hear your opinion."
"And what do these gentlemen say?" answered Liniers, walking up to the table, and leaning his hand upon it, while an expression of anxious thought came over his handsome features.
"There are some who say that we ought to organise the militia of the city and the partidarios into an army at some safe distance from the city, and then attack the English, and crush them before any reinforcement can reach them. There are not 2000 of them, but to form an army we require a chief."
"And something more too than a chief," replied Liniers, with a complacent smile, "something more than a chief; time is wanting. Do you think one could make soldiers of your militia in a week?"