"I repeat, Madame," coldly answered the general, "when I interrogate you, then, and then alone, I will permit you to answer me."
"Have I then fallen into the hands of bandits, without faith or law?" pursued she, with contempt. "Am I in the power of robbers of the desert? For that matter, the manner in which, up to the present time, I have been treated, and the sight of the man before whom I am conducted, would make me suppose so."
A murmur of anger, immediately repressed by a gesture from don Zeno Cabral, arose among the officers at this imprudent outburst.
"Where is the guide that we suspected of treason?" said the general, turning towards the captain.
"I have seized him," answered the latter.
"Have you acquired proofs of his treason?"
There was a movement among the soldiers. Some of them separated from the group which surrounded the prisoners, and led--treating him roughly--before their chief a half-caste of pitiful mien, with squinting eyes and thickset limbs, who, for more safety, no doubt, they had firmly bound round the neck with a lasso.
Don Zeno Cabral looked for a moment at this man--who stood humble and trembling before him--with a singular mixture of pity and disgust.
"You are convicted of treason," said he to him at last. "I have the right to hang you. I give you five minutes to commend your soul to God."
"I am innocent, noble General," murmured the wretch, falling on his knees, and hanging down his head with fear.
The general shrugged his shoulders, and turned towards the officers, with whom he began to talk in a low voice, without appearing to hear the prayers that the prisoner continued to address to him in a crying tone.
Three or four minutes passed. A funereal silence characterised the attentive crowd of the Montoneros.
It is always a serious matter, that condemnation to death, pronounced coldly, resolutely, and without appeal, even for men habituated to stake their lives on the hazard of a die, like those who were assisting at this scene; thus, in spite of themselves, they felt themselves seized with a secret fright, increased by the doleful sounds of the voice of the wretch who was writhing with fear in their midst, and imploring with sobs the pity of their chief.