"It is impossible; means fail us completely. I can only dispose of a hundred men, with whom I can attempt nothing, so much the more as we are playing an unlucky game at this moment. The population is running frantic at the success of the chief of the Montoneros, Zeno Cabral, has gained two days ago over the royal troops, commanded by Colonel Azevedo." "This success is somewhat apocryphal, my dear Captain. I give you my word of honour; it merely consists of an unimportant skirmish between foragers." "I admit it; it is even certain that it is so; but no one in the town will believe it; so that the check must be considered real." "Well, what matters? Let us leave these people in their error, and take advantage of it by acting. Now that they think themselves invincible, and that they amuse themselves by wasting their powder in fireworks, we can perhaps try a bold attack on the town." "Your idea is not bad; I even avow that it rather pleases me; but it has to be matured. It would be necessary to adroitly remove the troops camped in the environs, and to profit by their absence to attempt a surprise." "Then nothing would be easier than to seize upon the deputies." "Do not let us go too fast; let us first see what are the forces we have at our disposal for this expedition, which cannot but be very perilous, and which offers--I do not deceive you--very little chance of success." "Well, let us discuss the matter; I am quite agreeable." The painter, becoming more and more ill at ease through these confidences, which assumed rather a grave aspect for him, and wishing at all hazards to escape from the perplexing position in which he found himself--for he instinctively understood that it was a conversation between conspirators, and that he risked his life if he were discovered--took a resolution which appeared to him to be an inspiration from Heaven. Not wishing to continue to be a third party to secrets of such importance, he resolved to discover himself. He did not conceal from himself that the first moments would be very dangerous for him to get through, when the two men knew that their conversation had been heard throughout; but he preferred rather to risk this uncertain chance of saving his life than to remain any longer in the awkward position. Émile was foolishly bold, and scarcely ever thought of danger; on the contrary, he rushed headlong into it--the reader has already discovered this for himself; but this time, contrary to his habits, he used some little prudence before revealing his presence to the unknown speakers. He gently cocked his pistols, which he held in his hand under his poncho, ready to make use of them if need be: then rising from the bench on which up to that moment he had remained sitting-- "¡Hola caballeros!" said he, in a voice not loud enough to be heard by any other persons than those to whom he addressed himself. "Take care! There are ears which hear you."