"In fact," said General Trant, "the loss of him would make an almighty difference." Now he had asked me to be seated and had poured me out a glass of wine from his decanter. But at these words I leapt up suddenly, jolting the table so that the glass danced and spilled half its contents. "What the dickens is wrong?" asked the general, snatching a map out of the way of the liquor. "Good Lord, man! You don't suppose I was asking you to assassinate Marmont!" "I beg your pardon," said I, recovering myself. "Of course not; but it sounded--" "Oh, did it?" He mopped the map with his pocket handkerchief and looked at me as who should say "Guess again." I cast about wildly. "This man cannot be wanting to kidnap him!" thought I to myself. "You tell me his divisions are scattered after supplies. I hear that the bulk of his troops are in camp above Penamacor; that at the outside he has in Sabugal under his hand but 5,000. Now Silveira should be here in a couple of days; that will make us roughly 12,000." "Ah!" said I, "a surprise?" He nodded. "Night?" He nodded again. "And your cavalry?" I pursued. "I could, perhaps, force General Bacellar to spare his squadron of dragoons from Celorico. Come, what do you think of it?" "I do as you order," said I, "and that I suppose is to return to Sabugal and report the lie of the land. But since, general, you ask my opinion, and speaking without local knowledge, I should say--" "Yes?" "Excuse me, but I will send you my opinion in four days' time." And I rose to depart. "Very good, but keep your seat. Drink another glass of wine." "Sabugal is twenty miles off, and when I arrive I have yet to discover how to get into it," I protested. "That is just what am going to tell you." "Ah," said I, "so you have already been making arrangements?" He nodded while he poured out the wine. "You come opportunely, for I was about to rely on a far less _rusé_ hand. The plan, which is my own, I submit to your judgment, but I think you will allow some merit in it." Well, I was not well-disposed to approve of any plan of his. In truth he had managed to offend me seriously. Had an English gentleman committed my recent error of supposing him to hint at assassination, General Trant (who can doubt it?) would have flamed out in wrath; but me he had set right with a curt carelessness which said as plain as words that the dishonouring suspicion no doubt came natural enough to a Spaniard. He had entertained me with a familiarity which I had not asked for, and which became insulting the moment he allowed me to see that it came from cold condescension. I have known a dozen combinations spoilt by English commanders who in this way have combined extreme offensiveness with conscious affability; and I have watched their allies--Spaniards and Portuguese of the first nobility--raging inwardly, while ludicrously impotent to discover a peg on which to hang their resentment.