The Count stamped his foot savagely; the spectators, dumb and motionless, exchanged terrified glances, for they foresaw that this scene would soon have a terrible denouement, between two men, neither of whom would make concessions; while the first of them, blinded by rage, would soon not be in a condition to listen to the salutary counsels of reason. "My lord," Don Antonio de la Ronda murmured, "the stars are beginning to turn pale, and the day will soon dawn; we are still far from the hatto, would it not be better to set out without further delay?" "Silence!" the Count answered, with a smile of contempt. "Pedro," he added, addressing one of his domestics, "a match." The valet dismounted and advanced with a long sulphured match in his hand. "The two thumbs," the Count said, laconically. The domestic approached the monk; the latter offered his hands without hesitation, although his face was fearfully pale, and his whole body trembled. Pedro coolly rolled the match between his two thumbs, passing it several times under his nails, and then turned to the Count. "For the last time, monk," the latter said, "will you speak?" "I have nothing to say to you, my lord," Fray Arsenio replied, in a soft voice. "Light it," the Count commanded, biting his lips till they bled. The valet, with the passive obedience distinguishing men of this class, set fire to the match. The monk fell on his knees and raised his eyes to Heaven. His face had assumed an earthy tint, a cold perspiration beaded on his temples, and his hair stood on end. The suffering he experienced must be horrible, for his chest heaved violently, although his parched lips remained dumb. The Count watched him anxiously. "Will you speak now, monk?" he said to him in a hollow voice. Fray Arsenio turned toward him a face whose features were distorted by pain, and gave him a look full of ineffable gentleness. "I thank you, my lord," he said, "for having taught me that pain does not exist for a man whose faith is lively." "My curses on you, wretch!" the Count exclaimed, as he hurled him down with a blow on the chest. "To horse, señores, to horse, so that we may reach the hatto before sunrise." The cavaliers remounted, and went off at full speed, leaving, without a glance of compassion, the poor monk, who, vanquished by pain, had rolled fainting on the ground. CHAPTER XXVII. THE ORGANIZATION OF THE COLONY. A triple expedition, so serious as that conceived by Montbarts, demanded, for its success, extreme care and precautions.