“Stop!” Hilo exclaimed; “one word, my lord marquis, before I go. Knights and gentlemen here present, bear witness I hold in my hand the written parole of free conduct of this man—a thing no knight ever violated before. Santa Cruz I tear your worthless paper to atoms, thus, and proclaim you an infamous liar—a liar!” he reiterated, at the highest pitch of his voice, and stamping with impotent fury. The marquis, a man of unbridled passions, lost all command of himself at this insolent speech; his stiff beard bristled from excess of rage, like a boar’s back, and his sword was in his hand in an instant. But a number of cavaliers placed themselves simultaneously between, and Padilh grasped his sword-arm. “My lord—my lord, you forget yourself and justice!” he uttered, in that steady voice which asserted the true superiority of the man, and caused the blood to return to the face of the great captain. He looked at Don Pedro savagely a moment; but before dismissing his court he had recovered sufficient equanimity to pay a compliment to the latter, who was absent seeing to the disposal of the prisoners. “No knight is more worthy the name,” he added with a grim smile, “although he is somewhat rough and unguarded in performance of his duty, at times.” The day following the marquis and his maître-de-camp met in secret council. The former heard with surprise the history of De Ladron. “The wretch has put a climax to his crimes in this last,” he cried, “and please Heaven it shall be also the last he commits.” “I think,” the ample-hearted knight answered, “he would not have done such a wickedness knowingly. It is hard to believe so young a man could have so far fallen in villainy as to assassinate his own father, recognizing him as such. Doubtless the papers placed in De Haye’s hands never reached their destination. That unhappy gentleman fell in the first battle beyond Praya.” “Possibly,” Santa Cruz replied, thoughtfully, “and out of love to Inique I reverse my sentence, and postpone the day of execution until after that faithful cavalier draws his last breath; a period not far distant, his surgeon tells me.” “So near,” Padilh replied, “that I think, my lord, M. de Chaste, you and I, to whom only the secret of his life is known, should remain custodians of his honor, and preserve his name from vulgar censure after death.” “I give my hand to the compact cheerfully,” the other responded, and Don Pedro repaired at once to the quarters of the French commandant to enlist his neutrality. “You will comprehend M. de Chaste,” he said, among other things, to that weather-beaten pattern of chivalry, “by what knightly motives I have been impelled to shun no duty incumbent on my office. And had he been my own nephew, wicked as he is, I would not have screened him from the full weight of justice he deserves. Our strenuous aim now should be to save Inique the knowledge of his son’s fate, and if possible, of even his vicinity to himself.”