“If you won’t take it ill of me,” said Ramos, shutting the weapon, “let us have supper.”

Maria Remedios prepared every thing quickly, in order that the hero might not become impatient.

“Listen to me a moment, Senor Ramos,” said Don Inocencio to his guest, when they had sat down to supper.  “Have you a great deal to do to-night?”

“Something there is to be done,” responded the bravo.  “This is the last night I shall come to Orbajosa—­the last.  I have to look up some boys who remained in the town, and we are going to see how we can get possession of the saltpetre and the sulphur that are in the house of Cirujeda.”

“I asked you,” said the curate amiably, filling his friend’s plate, “because my niece wishes you to accompany her a short distance.  She has some business or other to attend to, and it is a little late to be out alone.”

“Is she going to Dona Perfecta’s?” asked Ramos.  “I was there a few moments ago, but I did not want to make any delay.”

“How is the senora?”

“A little frightened.  To-night I took away the six young men I had in the house.”

“Why! don’t you think they will be wanted there?” said Remedios, with alarm.

“They are wanted more in Villahorrenda.  Brave men chafe at being kept in the house; is it not so, Senor Canon?”

“Senor Ramos, that house ought not to be left unprotected,” said the Penitentiary.

“The servants are enough, and more than enough.  But do you suppose, Senor Don Inocencio, that the brigadier employs himself in attacking the people’s houses?”

“Yes, but you know very well that that diabolical engineer——­”

“For that—­there are not wanting brooms in the house,” said Cristobal jovially.  “For in the end, there will be no help for it but to marry them.  After what has passed——­”

“Senor Ramos,” said Remedios, with sudden anger, “I imagine that all you know about marrying people is very little.”

“I say that because a little while ago, when I was at the house, the mother and daughter seemed to be having a sort of reconciliation.  Dona Perfecta was kissing Rosarito over and over again, and there was no end to their caresses and endearments.”

“Reconciliation!  With all these preparations for the war you have lost your senses.  But, finally, are you coming with me or not?”

“It is not to Dona Perfecta’s she wants to go,” said the priest, “but to the hotel of the widow De Cuzco.  She was saying that she does not dare to go alone, because she is afraid of being insulted.”

“By whom?”

“It is easily understood.  By that infernal engineer.  Last night my niece met him there, and she gave him some plain talk; and for that reason she is not altogether easy in her mind to-night.  The young fellow is revengeful and insolent.”