When the hunter finished his narrative a gloomy silence prevailed for some minutes in the jacal. Outside the wind blew fiercely, and the rain fell in torrents. The smoky flame of the candle, flickering in the gusts, only spread an uncertain gleam over the pale faces of these men, who felt their hearts contracted by a sinister presentiment. The hacendero was the first to overcome the emotion he felt. With head erect, frowning brows, and features contracted by a supreme resolution, he walked rapidly up to the prisoner, and, pulling down roughly the zarapé that covered the lower part of his face, he gazed at him for a moment with an expression of grief and passion impossible to render. "It is true, then," he at length muttered, in a dull voice, "this man I believed so devoted to me is a traitor. I alone was blind when everybody around me accused him. Speak, villain, what have you done?" "It is my place to answer that question," the count said, as he walked forward and laid his hand on Don Aníbal's arm. The hacendero looked at him in amazement. "You, Señor Conde?" he said. "Yes, I, Don Aníbal. I, who have only come here to tell you a frightful secret, and am compelled to bring a terrible accusation against this man." Don Aníbal felt as if his heart would break. "Oh!" he exclaimed, "What are you going to tell me, great God?" Don Pelagio, who had hitherto leant his elbow on the table, and remained motionless and thoughtful, placed himself between the two gentlemen, and looked at them, in turn, with an expression of sorrowful compassion. "Stay," he said, in a loud voice. "In the name of heaven--in the name of our country--I command it! However terrible the revelation you have to make, Señor Conde, may be; however great your impatience, Don Aníbal, to know the full extent of your misfortunes, this is neither the place nor the hour for such an explanation; honour bids you both defer it for some hours. We must start immediately, for the hour has arrived. If we delayed for a few moments the fruit of all our labour and efforts would be lost. What do you apprehend? This man is in your power, and will not escape. You will soon be able to inflict on him the punishment which he doubtless deserves." "Oh!" the hacendero exclaimed, sorrowfully, "Suppose this villain escaped our vengeance, my friend; I feel a foreboding of some frightful misfortune." The count and the hunter looked down sadly. Father Sandoval gently laid his hand on the shoulder of the hacendero, who had fallen into an equipal, and buried his face in his hands. "Courage, friend," he said to him, softly. "God is watching. His justice never sleeps. Remember the precept written on the heart of every man of honour, 'Do your duty, no matter what may happen.'" The hacendero replied with a choking sob.