"It is,—it is the very villain who fired at me near Merida," muttered Ronald almost aloud, in a tone of uncontrollable passion, and feeling scarcely able to restrain himself from shooting Cifuentes dead upon the spot; but he repressed the fierce sentiments of intense hatred, indignation, and horror which he entertained for him, and paused even when his hand was on the lock of the musquet which he carried. "Whelp!" exclaimed one furiously to Narvaez, "think you I will thus tamely submit to be defrauded of my share in this matter? Remember, you are not at your old work of dealing out sour wine at Albuquerque! The rings I took from the image of our Lady at Majorga were alone worth two hundred _duros_." "_Pesetas_, you mean, Julian Diaz,—_pesetas_; they were copper trash." "I say _duros_; they were pure and beaten gold, embossed richly. Methinks I should best know: I have prayed at that shrine some hundred times ere—" He paused and grew pale. "Bethink you, Julian, of my last night’s work, and—" "Bah! The stabbing of an old _abogado_." "Old? Perdition seize him! he fought fiercely for his ill-gotten gold. I broke the blade of a choice knife on the bones that cover his hard heart. But silence, Diaz, my pet! Though we may eat flesh in Lent, and rifle our Lady of Majorga, we would scorn to cheat each other. Honour among—among—" "Thieves! End the adage at once, driveller," cried he whom they named Julian Diaz, a wild-looking fellow, with a broken nose and a frightful squint. "Honour," he added impatiently, "sounds strangely indeed in such a rogue’s mouth as thine, Narvaez,—the broken keeper of a wine casa." "Why not?" cried a third. "Every man, from the king and the soldier down to the lowest _abogado_, swears now by his word of honour; and why may not we?" "Agreed, agreed. Go on, _diavolo!_ go on with the distribution," cried the others impatiently. "Fiend take these dogs! what do they growl at? Some one surely approaches." "Impossible," answered Diaz. "Lazarillo is watching the only approach, and all is right; so count on, Narvaez." "Where was I? Ay—three hundred and ninety-eight, three hundred and ninety-nine, four hundred _reals_," continued Narvaez, counting the money, "are one hundred _pesetas_; now, we are thirty in number, including Lazarillo—" "But the necklace and rings which I took from the old lawyer’s daughter?" interrupted the avaricious Julian.