The two men who entered the square by the Calle de la Merced, were obliged to go to the further extremity in order to reach the cabildo, which was the temporary residence of the governor general of the intendancy. The cabildo was at this period (I do not know if it be still in existence) a building in a heavy and paltry style, built of stone, and having tall, straight, narrow windows, defended by heavy iron bars. Two lancers were walking with a most weary air in front of the principal gate, which was thrown wide open, and gave access to the interior by a flight of five steps. "We have arrived," said Diego López, as he stopped in front of the ugly building we have just described. "At last!" the adventurer answered, as he looked curiously about him. "¡Caray! I was beginning to fancy that we should never reach our journey's end." "Here we are; as you insisted on my leading you hither, I have done so." "And I thank you for doing it, gossip; now that you have honourably performed the far from agreeable task entrusted to you, leave me to my own business, and go and amuse yourself at the fair." "Hang me if I do anything of the sort," the peon answered; "I am too sorrowful." "Nonsense! Why bother yourself so? All will finish, I feel convinced, much better than you have supposed." "That is possible, and I wish it may be so, but I confess that I do not expect it; I will not attempt to dissuade you anymore; a fool cannot be prevented from committing folly." "Thank you," the adventurer said with a laugh. The other shook his head mournfully. "I am going to watch for my master," he continued; "he has great influence over the governor, and, if you are not hanged, I hope he will save you." "I hope too that I shall not be hanged." "_¿Quién sabe?_" the peon muttered. The Canadian, who was not particularly pleased by these ill-omened prognostics, hastened to take leave of his croaking companion. The latter looked after him until he disappeared in the cabildo, after exchanging a few words with the sentry; then he returned very thoughtfully to the mesón, muttering-- "I don't care; I will not start till I know whether he is hung; it is surely the least I can do for a good Catholic like him." CHAPTER XVIII. THE INTERVIEW. Oliver Clary had entered the cabildo. From this moment he could not recoil, but must push on. The brave and careless Canadian took a last and sorrowful glance at the square in which a merry crowd, whose cries reached his ears, was assembled; he gave a sigh of regret, and hung his head on his chest for a moment; but almost immediately subduing this sadness, which was unworthy of him, he effaced every trace of emotion from his face, drew himself up proudly, and with a calm step entered a hall in which were standing ushers, easily to be recognized by the silver chain round their neck. So soon as he appeared, one of these ushers left the group, and walked up to him with a slow and solemn step.