"And your worship, will you be the Señor Don Gregorio Lopez?"
"I am he. And you, what is your name?"
"I call myself Venceslao Viana, at your service, Señor Don Gregorio."
At this Don Gregorio rose from his seat with a grave look on his face and walked away to a window, while Don Roderigo looked up from the letter which he had just finished, and examined attentively the face of the chasque, who appeared somewhat disconcerted at the abrupt termination of his conversation with Don Gregorio.
Then folding up the letter and sealing it with the official seal of the Cabildo, Don Roderigo handed it to Venceslao Viana.
"This to the Señor General Liniers," he said. "But first tell me, have you seen anything of the English to-day?"
"Much, I came right through their lines. There is another army of them crossed the Riachuelo at the Zamorra Pass this morning."
"Then vaya con Dios, and don't lose a minute;" so saying, Don Roderigo opened the door for him, and shaking him warmly by the hand dismissed him, as much surprised at his politeness as at the sudden coolness of Don Gregorio.
"One must be the devil himself to understand the ways of these men who wear coats," said Venceslao to himself, as he mounted his horse. "That old man must be in some way a relation of mine; he will be one of those relations in the city of whom my father never speaks. He would speak to me no more when he knew who I was. And that other! Who knows if he is not a relation also. When one is a man of family one never knows where one may meet relations."