A smile of contempt curled the lips of the lady. She slightly shrugged her shoulders, and fixed on the general a look with such an expression that, in spite of himself, he turned away his eyes. This lady, in all the force and pride of her beauty, appeared to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years of age, although in reality she was about thirty-three. Her features, with extreme regularity of outline, realised the ideal of Roman beauty; her black eyes, full of fire and passion, her delicate forehead, her pretty mouth, her fine and velvet skin, her complexion very slightly bronzed by the sun, and, above all, the haughty and mockingly cruel expression of her countenance, excited a repulsion for her for which it was impossible at first to account. Her majestic figure, her noble gestures--everything about this woman, by an inexplicable contrast, repelled instead of attracting. One would have looked for the roar of a wild beast in the harmonious modulations of her voice, and the claws of a tiger under her rosy nails. "Beware what you do, caballero," she resumed; "I am a foreigner; I am travelling peaceably; no one has a right to stop me, or even to impede my course." "I repeat, Madame," coldly answered the general, "when I interrogate you, then, and then alone, I will permit you to answer me." "Have I then fallen into the hands of bandits, without faith or law?" pursued she, with contempt. "Am I in the power of robbers of the desert? For that matter, the manner in which, up to the present time, I have been treated, and the sight of the man before whom I am conducted, would make me suppose so." A murmur of anger, immediately repressed by a gesture from don Zeno Cabral, arose among the officers at this imprudent outburst. "Where is the guide that we suspected of treason?" said the general, turning towards the captain. "I have seized him," answered the latter. "Have you acquired proofs of his treason?" "Undoubted proofs, General." "Have him brought in." There was a movement among the soldiers. Some of them separated from the group which surrounded the prisoners, and led--treating him roughly--before their chief a half-caste of pitiful mien, with squinting eyes and thickset limbs, who, for more safety, no doubt, they had firmly bound round the neck with a lasso. Don Zeno Cabral looked for a moment at this man--who stood humble and trembling before him--with a singular mixture of pity and disgust. "You are convicted of treason," said he to him at last. "I have the right to hang you. I give you five minutes to commend your soul to God." "I am innocent, noble General," murmured the wretch, falling on his knees, and hanging down his head with fear. The general shrugged his shoulders, and turned towards the officers, with whom he began to talk in a low voice, without appearing to hear the prayers that the prisoner continued to address to him in a crying tone.