His tone was silky, light, indolent, as if he would dismiss a trifle about which too much had been said already.  It might have been convincing to any other man, but he felt the stern, reproving gaze of Father Montigny still fixed upon him.

“And what of the ring and the professional swordsman?” said the priest.  “Are you to turn a youth to a gladiator, even as the blessed martyrs were given to the lions and tigers by the Roman pagans!  What of that, Francisco Alvarez?  Are such deeds to be done, here, in our day, in Louisiana, and to pass unchallenged?”

The priest’s voice rose and it cut like the sharp edge of a knife.  Never since his boyhood had Francisco Alvarez flushed more deeply, and he moved uneasily on his cane chair.

“You give it a name that does not belong to it,” he said.  “It was play, or not much more.  Romildo, the swordsman, had orders not to hurt him much.”

“That may or may not be true, Francisco Alvarez,” said the priest, speaking slowly and precisely.  “But I have more to ask you.  What of this plot of yours to set the Indian tribes and a Spanish force with cannon upon Kaintock?  What of your plan to become Governor General in place of Galvez?  What of your intention to make distant war upon the rebel colonies and therefore commit Spain to an alliance with England?  Answer me, Francisco Alvarez.  What of these things?”

The priest rose from his seat, as he spoke, and lifted that stern, accusing finger.  Alvarez was as still as if struck by lightning.  His great plan known to this man, this man who feared not even torture, or death, or the world to come!  He shrank visibly both mentally and physically, but then his courage came back under the spur of dreadful necessity.

“A priest can take great liberties,” he said.  “Sometimes I think it scarcely fair that you of the Book may denounce us of the sword and that we may say nothing in return, although we may be right and you may be wrong.  It is sufficient now for me to tell you that I do not know what you are talking about.  I, the Governor General!  Any man may dream of that!  I have done so, and I have no doubt that many others have done the same.  I favor, too, an alliance with England, as do nearly all the Spanish officers in Louisiana, but I am a faithful servant of His Majesty, the King, and though I may hold my opinions, I know of no plot, either against Bernardo Galvez or to make a war upon Kaintock.”

“I have heard you, Francisco Alvarez,” said the priest, “but it is for your actions to prove the truth of your words.  See to it, also, that there is no further cruelty practised against these men from Kaintock.”

“They are my prisoners,” replied Alvarez, “and I mean to hold them.  There you cannot interfere, Father Montigny.  They were taken in arms against us upon our soil of Louisiana, and that they are my prisoners even you cannot dispute.”

“No,” replied Father Montigny, “I do not dispute it; at least not for the present.  But if they are held as prisoners they should be sent to Bernardo Galvez at New Orleans, and not be retained here.”