And without condescending to bow to the company, the count, after looking defiantly around him, turned and left the hall with the same calm and measured step as when he entered it. Father Pelagio then bent down to Don Aníbal's ear. "Follow him," he said in a low voice, "and do not let him quit the hacienda till you know his instructions and the repressive measures the government intend to employ against us." "That will be difficult," the hacendero observed. "Not so much so as you suppose. The count is an old friend of yours. Take advantage of the late hour to oblige him to accept your hospitality, and remain here till tomorrow. In our present position, twenty-four hours gained may ensure the success of our plans. I reckon on your skill to decide him." "I will try," Don Aníbal answered, shaking his head doubtfully; "but I am afraid I shall fail in this delicate mission." "Try impossibilities, my friend," Fray Pelagio pressed him. Don Aníbal bowed and left the hall. CHAPTER VII. A CONVERSATION. Among the persons present at the meeting, was one to whom we have not alluded, although he is destined to play an important part in this story, and who perhaps listened with more interest than anyone else to what was said. This person, to whom we have now to turn our attention, was Sotavento, the Indian majordomo, so liked by Don Aníbal de Saldibar, and whose gloomy outline was described in our earlier chapters. Sotavento had not altered; nearly a dozen years had passed over his head without leaving the slightest trace; his hair was still as black, his face as cold, and his person as upright. Indians have this peculiarity, that, whatever their age may be, they always seem young, and do not really begin to display any signs of decrepitude until they reach the last limits of old age. We several times came across redskins who mentioned to us facts that occurred sixty years back, and yet they did not themselves look more than five and thirty. Moreover, it is impossible to fix with any certainty an Indian's age, even when his features bear the stamp of senility, for the simple reason that the savages do not try by any ceremony to fix in their minds the precise date of their children's birth, and limit themselves to recording, by the name they give them, at what spot, in what season, and under what physical or moral influence they are born; hence the names of plants, animals, rivers, mountains, etc., which nearly all the redskins bear. Sotavento, during the twelve years that had elapsed, had not left his master. He had continued to serve him with such fidelity and devotion that the latter, in spite of his indomitable Castilian pride, had almost come to regard his majordomo more as a friend than a servant, and to treat him accordingly. The conduct of this man, although still stamped with a certain mystery, had constantly been loyal, apparently at least, and under two critical circumstances he had bravely exposed his life to save his master's.