"We shall have plenty of room for you to-night, Gregorio," said Doña Constancia. "We have generally a house full on a Saturday evening, but it appears we are to have no visitors this week. Even Don Carlos has not been out to see us since he came in from his estancia."
"I shall not stop the night here," replied Don Gregorio; "I am going on after dark."
At ten o'clock Don Gregorio was still there, though he had ordered his horse to be saddled. They were seated under the verandah, looking out into the quiet night, talking little, for each one had his or her own thoughts, and none of these thoughts were cheerful. Evaristo was the most talkative, and his talk was of his brother or of the Viceroy Marshal Liniers, and of whichever he spoke his words were words of anger. Suddenly he started to his feet.
"Hush!" he said. "Listen! who are these that come at this hour of the night?"
They stepped out into the garden, and from the south, through the thick foliage of the trees, and near at hand, there came the sound of the trampling of hoofs as of a multitude of horses at a quiet trot. Mingled with this sound came the jingling of sabres in steel scabbards, and the hum of many voices.
"Who are those, Gregorio?" said Doña Constancia, as a gruff voice shouted "halt," and the trampling and the jingling ceased. "They have stopped at the tranquera."
"They are my dragoons," replied the Colonel, "Sleep tranquil, Marcelino will not be many hours longer in prison."
"My God!" exclaimed Doña Constancia, clasping her hands; "what is it that you are going to do?"
"Who sent for you?" asked Dolores.
"Evaña," replied the Colonel; then kissing both of them he looked round to bid good-night to his nephew, but Evaristo was not to be seen.