"Yes," Don Tadeo replied, in a stern voice, "you are not mistaken, Don Pancho; I am Don Tadeo de Leon, whom you caused to be shot upon the Plaza Mayor of Santiago. Your spies have informed you correctly."

"Man or demon," the General shouted, half choking with rage, "I will not yield to you! I will fight you as a man, and send you back again to the hell from which you have escaped!"

His enemy smiled disdainfully.

"Your hour has arrived, Don Pancho," he said; "you are due to the justice of the Dark-Hearts."

"You do not hold me yet, wretched traitor! If I cannot conquer, I can die, weapon in hand, like a soldier."

"No, your hour has struck, I tell you; you are ours, you shall die, but not the death of a soldier; you shall be executed by our justice!"

"If that be the case," the General yelled, brandishing his sword, "come and take me!"

Don Tadeo did not deign a reply; he gave a signal, and a lasso whizzed through the air, launched by an invisible hand, and fell round the General's shoulders. Astonished by this unexpected attack, before he could make the least possible resistance, he received a terrific shock, lost his stirrups, was pulled from his horse, and dragged amongst the insurgents. The astounded General, half mad with rage and shame, exhausted himself in vain efforts; nearly strangled by the lasso which flayed his neck, his face assumed a purple tint; his eyes, injected with blood, seemed starting from their sockets, and a white foam flowed from the corners of his discoloured lips. Don Tadeo contemplated him for a moment with a mixture of pity and triumph.

"Free him from that slipknot," he said. "Secure his person, but treat him with respect."

The soldiers, terrified at this prompt capture, which they had not at all expected, stood downcast and silent; in their stupor forgetting even the use of their arms. Don Tadeo turned towards them:

"Surrender," he shouted, "surrender! the man who misled you is in our power; your lives shall be spared."

The soldiers consulted each other for an instant with their eyes; and then, as if by a spontaneous movement, they threw down their muskets, crying aloud:

"Chili! Chili! liberty! liberty!"

"That is well!" said Don Tadeo; "leave the city, encamp at the distance of a mile, and await the orders which shall soon be transmitted to you."

The conquered soldiers, with downcast looks, followed the road they had traversed an hour before; they passed through the silent ranks of the insurgents, which opened to give them passage. Without loss of time, Don Tadeo, followed by a crowd of his partisans, directed his course towards the Plaza Mayor, where the battle still raged. The soldiers, solidly intrenched in the Plaza, and masters of the cabildo, fought valiantly, hoping still for the assistance of General Bustamente, of whose fate they were ignorant. Although reduced to a small number, these troops occupied a formidable position, in which it was almost impossible to force them, without resolving to suffer great loss. Persuaded that they only required to gain time, the soldiers fought with the energy of despair, defending inch by inch the barricade behind which they were sheltered.

But the day was passing away, their ammunition was growing exhausted, a great number of their comrades were stretched dead at their feet, and nothing could support them but the hope that the succour so impatiently expected was at hand. In the heat of their own contest they had not heard the noise of the battle fought by Don Pancho at the city gates, in which but few shots had been fired, as it had been principally decided by cold steel. Discouragement, however, began to affect the bravest, the general who commanded even felt his energy diminish, and he looked around him with great anxiety.

Dejected, and with downcast eyes, the senator, who had been the bearer of the fatal proclamation, trembled in all his limbs; he regretted, but too late, having thrown himself into this hornet's nest; and he offered up the most magnificent vows to the innumerable saints of the golden Spanish legend, if they would bring him safe and sound through the perils which surrounded him. The worthy man had not any warlike instincts; and we can safely affirm, without fear of contradiction, that if he had had the slightest suspicion that things would have taken the turn they did, he would have remained quiet in his charming quinta of Corro-Azul, in the environs of Santiago, where his life glided away so softly, so happily, and, above all, so free from care. Unfortunately, as it sometimes happens in this nether world, where, whatever Candide may say, everything is not for the best, in the best of worlds, Don Ramón Sandias – so the worthy senator was named – had not been able duly to appreciate the charms of that calm life; ambition had gnawed at his heart, though he had nothing to wish for; and he had, as we have seen, plunged up to the neck in a hornet's nest, from which he did not know how to emerge.

At every shot he heard, the poor senator jumped like a Guanaco, with startled eyes; and when, now and then, in spite of the precautions he had taken, the sinister hissing of a bullet resounded in his ear, he threw himself flat on his face, murmuring all the prayers that his troubled memory could recall.

At first, the contortions and cries of Don Ramón had very much amused the officers and soldiers among whom accident had placed him; they had even taken delight in augmenting his terrors; but, at length, as happens more frequently in such cases than people fancy, the pleasantries had ceased; Don Ramón's terrors had communicated themselves to the laughers, who saw, with fright, that their position was becoming every minute more desperate.

"The devil take the poltroon!" the General at length cried, angrily; "cannot you keep your trembling limbs still? Caspita! console yourself, they won't kill you more than once."

"Ah! that is very easy for you to say," the senator replied, in a broken voice; "I am no soldier; it is your trade to be killed, it is all one to you."

"Hum!" said the General, "not quite so much so as you may think; but comfort yourself; if this goes on a little longer, we shall all go together."

"What is that you say?" the poor man muttered, with redoubled fear.

"Caramba! it is clear as day, if Don Pancho does not make haste and come, all of us here will die."

"But I do not wish to die!" said the senator, bursting into tears; "I am no soldier. Oh! I implore you, my good, my inestimable Don Tiburcio Cornejo, let me go away!"

The General shrugged his shoulders.

"What consequence can it be to you?" the senator continued, in a supplicating tone; "do save my life! show me which way I can get out of this cursed confusion."

"Eh! how the devil do I know?"' the General said, impatiently.

"Well, now, look here," said the senator; "you owe me two thousand piastres, which I won of you at Monte, do you not?"

"What then?" the General, vexed at this ill-timed remark, said, sharply.

"Get me away from here, and I will cry quits."

"You are a fool, Don Ramón; do you think if I could get safely away from here, that I would remain?"

"I see what you are," said the senator, despondingly; "you are but a false friend, you desire my death, you thirst for my blood."

In short, the poor man was almost mad; he knew not what he said, terror had deprived him of the little sense he ever possessed. But, in reality, the position became every instant more critical; the carnage was horrible, the soldiers fell one after another beneath the bullets of the insurgents, who were sheltered by every corner of the plaza. Two or three sorties attempted by the troops had been vigorously repulsed; and hence, decimated as they were, all they could possibly do now was to prevent their intrenchments from being carried.

All at once the senator bounded forward like a chamois; he made directly to the General, and seized his arm.

"We are saved!" he cried; "thanks be to God! we are saved!"

"Hilloh! what's the matter now, Don Ramón? What bee has stung you? are you really mad?"

"I have not been stung," the senator replied, as fast as he could speak, "nor am I mad; we are saved; I tell you, we are saved!"

"Well, how? what is it? Is Don Pancho coming at last?"

"Don Pancho, indeed! I wish he were at the devil!" "Well, what is it, then?"

"Why, do you not see, yonder? look, behind the barricade which blocks the entrance of the Calle de la Merced."

"What is there to see?"

"Why, a flag of truce! a white flag!"

"Ah!" said the General, eagerly, "let us look! let us look!"

And he did look.

"True!" he said, at the expiration of a minute. "Success to all cowards, say I, for having good eyes; I did not see it."

"Ay, but I did," said Don Ramón, rubbing his hands, quite revived, and marching off with great glee. But, at that moment, a nearly spent ball came ricocheting and whizzing close to his ear.

"Lord, have mercy upon me!" he cried, falling flat on his face, and so remaining, as motionless as if he were dead, although he had not received a scratch.

In the meantime, the General had likewise caused a flag of truce to be hoisted on his intrenchments, and had given orders for the firing to cease. The noise of the combat being hushed, the senator, like a rabbit relieved from alarm, raised his head a little; reassured by the silence which prevailed, he sat up, looking on all sides with the greatest anxiety, and, at length, convinced that the peril was over, he contrived to get upon his legs, which, however, trembled so frightfully under him, that they could scarcely support him.

CHAPTER XXXVII
THE TRUCE

As soon as the flag of truce was hoisted, firing at once ceased on both sides. The troops at bay, who had ceased to hope for succour, were not sorry to find that the insurgents saved their military honour by being the first to demand a parley. General Cornejo, in particular, was tired of the hopeless combat, which he had bravely maintained all the morning.

"Well, Don Ramón," he said, addressing the senator in a more cordial tone than he had before employed, "I think I have found means to enable you to escape without striking a blow; so what we agreed to stands good, does it not?"

The senator looked at him with a bewildered air; the worthy man had not the least recollection of what he had either said or done while the balls were whistling round him.

"I do not at all understand you, General," he replied.

"Poor man! pretend to be innocent, do!" said the General, laughing, and slapping him on the shoulder; "do you wish to persuade me you are like the Guanacos, which lose their memory through trembling with fear?"

"Upon my honour," said the senator, "I swear, Don Tiburcio, that I have not the least remembrance of having promised you anything."

"Ah! well, it is possible, for you were devilishly frightened. Come, I will refresh your memory: pay attention!"

"You will give me great pleasure."

"Well, I doubt that! but that is of no consequence. You said to me, on the spot where we now stand, not more than half an hour ago, that if I found the means of securing your escape, safe and sound, you would hold me quits for the two thousand piastres I lost to you, and owed you."

"Do you flatter yourself that that is the truth?" said the senator, whose avaricious instincts began to revive, as fear departed.

"I am sure it is. Ask these gentlemen," the General asked, turning towards some officers who stood by.

"Oh, certainly! true to the letter," they said, with a laugh.

"Ah! ah!"

"Yes, and as I would not listen to you, you added – "

"What!" Don Ramón, who knew of old the man he had to deal with, said, with a start – "do you mean to say that I added something?"

"The devil! yes," said the other. "You added this; and I repeat your own words. You said, as plainly as you could speak – 'And I will give a thousand piastres in addition.'"

"Oh, that is not possible!" the senator ejaculated, quite beside himself.

"Perhaps I did not understand you?"

"That must be it."

"Do you admit you mentioned the two thousand?" asked the General, quietly.

"Not at all! not at all!" replied Don Ramón, quite confounded by the laughter of the bystanders.

"Perhaps you meant more; well, we will not haggle about that."

"I never said a word of the kind!" the exasperated senator exclaimed.

"In that case," said the General, with a stern frown, and surveying him coolly, "you mean to say that I have told a falsehood."

Don Ramón became aware that he had made a false move, and drew back.

"Pardon me, my dear General," he said, in the most amiable voice possible, "you are perfectly right; I do now remember it was two thousand piastres I promised you in addition."

It was now the General's turn to be at a loss, for this generosity on the part of the senator, whose avarice was proverbial, confused him; he was suspicious of some snare or trick.

"But," Don Ramón added, with an air of triumph, "you have not saved me."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Why, Santiago! as we are going to hold a parley, you are too late, and our bargain is void."

"Oh! oh!" said Don Tiburcio, with a jeering smile, "you think so, do you?"

"Caspita! I am sure of it."

"And yet you are deceived, my dear friend, as you shall judge: come with me, the flag of truce is now crossing the barricades, and in an instant you will learn that you have never been so near death as now."

"You are joking."

"I never joke about serious circumstances."

"In Heaven's name explain yourself!" said the poor senator, whose fears had all returned.

"Lord! it is the simplest thing in the world," said the General, carelessly; "I have but to declare to the leader of the revolt, and be assured I will not fail to do so, that I only acted by your orders."

"Well, but that is not true," interrupted Don Ramón, in great alarm.

"I know that," the General replied, bluntly; "but, as you are a senator, they will believe me, and you will be fully and fairly shot, and that will be a pity."

Don Ramón was thunderstruck by this piece of implacable logic; he found that he was in a hobble, from which he could not possibly escape without paying handsomely. He looked at his friend, who surveyed him with a pitilessly ironical smile, whilst the officers bit their lips to keep from laughing; he stifled a sigh, and resolving to make the best of it, very much against his will, he said, inwardly cursing the man who exposed him in such a cynical fashion —

"Well, Don Tiburcio, I admit that I owe you two thousand piastres, but I will pay you."

This was the only epigram he ventured to indulge in regarding the General's willingness to pay; but the latter was magnanimous, he took no notice of the offensive part of the speech, and rendered quite cheerful by the bargain he had concluded, he prepared to listen to the propositions of the officer with the flag of truce, who was brought to him with his eyes bandaged. This officer was Don Tadeo de Leon.

"What do you come here for?" the General asked.

"To offer you good terms, if you will surrender," Don Tadeo replied, in a firm voice.

"Surrender!" the General shouted with a laugh; "you must be mad, sir!" and, turning towards the soldiers who had brought Don Tadeo, he added, "Remove the bandage from the eyes of this caballero."

The bandage fell accordingly.

"Look round you," said the General, haughtily, "do we look like people asking for a favour?"

"No, General, you are a stout soldier, and your troops are brave; you ask no favour of us, it is we who come to you to offer to lay down our arms on both sides, and put an end to this fratricidal contest," Don Tadeo replied, with an air of grandeur.

"Who are you, may I ask, sir?" said the General, struck with the noble bearing of the man who was speaking to him.

"I am Don Tadeo de Leon, whom your leader ordered to be shot."

"You!" cried the General, "you here!"

"I, myself; and I have another name."

"Tell it to me, sir."

"I am called the King of Darkness."

"The leader of the Dark-Hearts!" the General murmured, starting, in spite of himself, and surveying the speaker with uneasy curiosity.

"Yes, General, I am the leader of the Dark-Hearts, but I am still something more."

"Explain yourself, sir," the General asked, who began to be in doubt how to behave toward the strange personage who was speaking to him.

"I am the leader of the men whom you term insurgents, but who have, in reality, only taken up arms to defend the institutions you have overthrown, and the constitution you have violated."

"Sir!" said the General, "your words – "

"Are severe, but just," continued Don Tadeo; "ask your own loyal, soldier's heart, General, and then tell me which side is right."

"I am not a lawyer, sir," Don Tiburcio replied impatiently; "you have yourself said that I am a soldier, and, as such, I confine myself to obeying, without discussion, the orders I receive from my leaders."

"Let us not lose time uselessly in idle speeches, sir; will you, or will you not, lay down your arms?"

"By what right do you make me such a proposal?" the General asked, whose pride revolted at being forced to hold a parley with a citizen.

"I could answer you," replied Don Tadeo, sternly, "that it is by the right of the stronger, and that you know as well as I do that you are combating for a lost cause, and that you are persisting without advantage in a senseless struggle; but I prefer addressing myself to your heart, and saying, why should brothers and fellow countrymen continue to cut each other's throats? – why should we any longer shed such precious blood? Make your conditions, General, and be assured that for the sake of protecting your soldier's honour, that honour which is ours also, as among the troops against whom we fight are our relations, friends, and countrymen, we will grant them as extensively as you can desire."

The General felt himself moved, this noble language had found an echo in his heart; he looked down on the ground, and reflected for several minutes; at length, raising his head, he replied —

"Sir, believe me it costs me much not to answer as I could wish what you have done me the honour to say to me; but I have a leader above me."

"In your turn please to explain yourself, sir," said Don Tadeo.

"I have sworn to Don Pancho Bustamente to defend his cause to the death."

"Well?"

"Well, sir, unless Don Pancho Bustamente were killed or a prisoner, – in either of which cases I should consider myself freed from my oath to him, – I will lay down my life for him."

"Is that the only reason that prevents you, General?"

"Yes, the only one."

"In case General Bustamente should be either killed or a prisoner, you would surrender?"

"Instantly, I repeat."

"Well," replied Don Tadeo, stretching out his arm in the direction of the barricade by which he had come, "look yonder, General."

Don Tiburcio looked in the direction indicated, and uttered a cry of surprise and sorrow. Don Pancho Bustamente appeared at the top of the barricade; his head was bare, and two armed men watched all his movements.

"Do you see him?" Don Tadeo asked.

"Yes," replied the General, sorrowfully; "we all surrender, sir;" and turning the point of his sword to the ground, he bent the blade with the intention of breaking it. Don Tadeo stopped him by seizing the sword, which he, however, returned to him immediately, saying —

"General, keep that weapon, it will serve you against the enemies of our country."

The General made no reply; he silently pressed the hand which the King of Darkness held out to him, and turning away to conceal the emotion which agitated him, he wiped away a tear that had fallen upon his grey moustache.

CHAPTER XXXVIII
TWO ROGUISH PROFILES

The city was quiet, the revolt was over, or, to speak more logically, the revolution was complete. The soldiers, after laying down their arms, had evacuated Valdivia, which was left completely in the power of the Dark-Hearts. As soon as peace was re-established, the Dark-Hearts gave orders that the barricades should be destroyed, and that all traces of the sanguinary struggle should be removed as quickly as possible. By the force of accomplished facts alone, Don Tadeo de Leon found himself quite naturally invested with power, and in command of the province, with the faculties of a dictator.

"Well," he asked Valentine, "what do you think of what you have seen?"

"Faith," the Parisian replied, with characteristic bluntness, "I think people must come to America to see how men can be caught with hook and line like simple gudgeons."

Don Tadeo could not refrain from smiling at this whimsical answer.

"Do not leave me," he said; "all is not over yet."

"I ask no better; but, our friends yonder, don't you think they will be very uneasy at our long absence?"

"Can you for a moment imagine that I have forgotten them? Within an hour you will be at liberty. Come with me; I want to show you two faces to which our victory has given an expression very different from that which they generally wear."

"That will be curious," said Valentine.

"Yes," Don Tadeo replied, "or hideous, whichever you please."

"Hum! man is not perfect," said Valentine, philosophically.

"Fortunately not; if he were, he would be execrable," Don Tadeo remarked.

They entered the cabildo, the doors of which were guarded by a detachment of Dark-Hearts. The vast saloons of the palace were invaded by an eager crowd, who came to salute the rising sun; that is to say, they came to offer the spectacle of their baseness to the fortunate man, whom, no doubt, they would have stoned if success had not crowned his audacious attempt. Don Tadeo passed, without seeing them, through the ranks of these sycophants, the sworn courtiers of every authority, as void of honour as of shame, possessing but one single talent – that of making bendings to which it would seem impossible that the vertebral column of a man could attain, however flexible it may be. Valentine, who followed the footsteps of his friend, feigned to take for himself the greater part of the genuflexions meant for Don Tadeo, and bowed to the right and left with imperturbable coolness and assurance.

The two gentlemen, after many delays caused by the increasing crowd, which closed around them, reached at last a retired apartment, in which there were only two persons. These two persons were General Tiburcio and Senator Don Ramón Sandias. The physiognomy of these persons offered a striking contrast. The General, with a sad face and a pensive step, walked about the apartment, whilst the senator, luxuriantly reclining on a fauteuil, with a smile upon his lips, his visage expanded, and one leg thrown over the other, was fanning himself carelessly with an embroidered handkerchief of the finest cambric. At the sight of Don Tadeo, the General advanced rapidly towards him; as for the senator, he sat upright in his chair, assumed a serious look, and waited.

"Sir," the General said, in a low voice, "two words."

"Speak, General," replied Don Tadeo; "I am entirely at your disposal."

"I have some questions which I wish to put to you."

"You may be assured, General, that if it be in my power to answer you, I will not hesitate to satisfy you."

"I am convinced of that, and it is that which emboldens me to speak."

"I am all attention."

The General hesitated for a moment, but seemed at length determined.

"Good heavens, sir!" said he, "I am an old soldier, unacquainted with diplomacy; I had a friend, almost a brother, and I am a prey to mortal uneasiness on his account."

"And that friend?"

"Is General Bustamente. You must know," he added, warmly, "that we have been fellow soldiers thirty years; and I should wish – " here he stopped, as if in doubt, looking earnestly at the person he was addressing.

"You would like?" said Don Tadeo, quietly.

"To know the fate that is reserved for him."

Don Tadeo gave the General a melancholy glance.

"To what purpose?" he murmured.

"I beg of you."

"You insist on knowing?"

"I do."

"General Bustamente is a great criminal. While a leader in power, he wished to change the form of government against the will of the people from whom he held his position, and in contempt of the laws, which he shamelessly trampled underfoot."

"That is but too true," said the General, whose brow turned crimson.

"General Bustamente has been implacable during the course of his too long career; you know that he who sows the wind can only hope to reap the tempest."

"Hence!"

"The same implacability will be shown to him that he has shown to others."

"That is to say?"

"He will, in all probability, be condemned to death."

"Alas! I expected as much; but will this condemnation of which you speak, be long delayed?"

"Two days at most; the commission which must try him will be formed today."

"Poor friend!" said the General, piteously; "and that's the end! Will you grant me a favour, sir?"

"Name it."

"As the General must die, it would be a consolation to him to have a friend by his side."

"No doubt it would."

"Allow me to be his guard. I am sure he will be happy to know that it is I who have the duty of watching over him and leading him to death. And then I shall not, at least, abandon him till the last minute."

"So be it, – your request is granted. Have you anything else to say? I shall be happy to serve you."

"No, I thank you, sir; that is all I desired, – Ah! one word more!"

"Speak."

"Can I be allowed to take this guard soon?"

"Immediately, if you like."

"I thank you, sir."

And after profoundly bowing to Don Tadeo, the General quitted the room with a hasty step.

"Poor man!" said Valentine.

"Eh?" cried Don Tadeo.

"I said, poor man!"

"Oh, yes; I heard you plainly enough, but of whom were you speaking?"

"Of the unfortunate man who has just left us."

Don Tadeo shrugged his shoulders, and Valentine looked at him with surprise.

"Do you think you know whence the solicitude of this poor man, as you call him, for his friend arises?"

"Why, from his friendship for him; that is clear."

"You think so, do you?"

"I can think nothing else."

"Well, then, allow me to tell you you are completely mistaken; the poor General is only desirous to be near his companion in arms, that he may have the opportunity of suppressing the proofs of his complicity in the rash enterprise of yesterday; proofs which Don Pancho most likely has about him, and which the other wishes to destroy at all hazards."

"Can that be possible?"

"By Saint Jago, yes! He desires to be constantly with him, that he may not communicate with anyone – why, he would kill him, if necessary."

"Oh! this is infamous!"

"But so it is."

"Bah! it gives me a nausea."

"Well, do not be sick yet."

"Why not?"

"Because," Don Tadeo continued, pointing to the senator, "I think we have something here that will bring the agreeable feeling to its height."

As soon as Don Ramón saw the General leave the apartment, he quitted his easy chair, and advanced towards Don Tadeo, bowing obsequiously.

"To whom have I the honour of speaking?" said the King of Darkness, with studied politeness.

"Sir," the other replied, with a jaunty, gentlemanly air, "my name is Don Ramón Sandias, and I am a senator."

"How can I be of service to you, sir?" said Don Tadeo, bowing.

"Oh," Don Ramón replied, affectedly; "as regards myself, personally, I ask nothing."

"Indeed!"

"Caspita! no; I am rich, what more can I want? But I am a Chilian, a patriot, sir; and, what is more, a senator. Placed in an exceptional position, I am bound to give my fellow citizens unequivocal proofs of my devotion to the holy cause of liberty. Are you not of my opinion, sir?"

"Entirely."

"I have heard, sir, that the wretched cabecilla, the cause of this silly movement, which brought the republic within two inches of ruin, is in your hands."

"Yes, sir," replied Don Tadeo, with imperturbable coolness, "we have been fortunate enough to obtain possession of his person."

"You are, doubtless, going to bring this man to trial?" Don Ramón asked, in a somewhat familiar tone.

"Within forty-eight hours, sir."

"That is right, sir. It is thus that justice should be dealt to these shameless agitators, who, in contempt of the sacred laws of humanity, seek to plunge our beautiful country into the gulf of revolutions."

"Sir!"

"Pardon me for speaking thus," said Don Ramón, with well-feigned enthusiasm; "I feel that my freedom goes rather far, but my indignation carries me away, sir; it is quite time that these makers of widows and orphans should receive the exemplary chastisement they merit. I cannot think, without trembling, of the manifold evils that would have fallen upon us, if this miserable adventurer had succeeded."

"Sir, this man is not yet condemned."

"And that is exactly what brings me to you, sir. As a senator, and a devoted patriot, I claim of you the right which belongs to me, of presiding over the commission whose duty it is to sit in judgment upon him."

"Your request is granted, sir," Don Tadeo replied, who was unable to repress a smile of contempt.

"Thank you, sir!" said the senator, with an expression of joy; "however painful the duty may be, I shall know how to perform it."

After bowing deeply to Don Tadeo, the senator left the room in high spirits.

"You see," said Don Tadeo, turning to Valentine, "Don Pancho had two friends upon whom he thought he could depend: one took upon him to proclaim him, the other to defend him. Well, in one he finds a gaoler, in the other an executioner."

"It is monstrous!" said Valentine, with disgust.

"No," replied Don Tadeo; "it is logical, that's all; – he has failed."

"I have had enough of your politic men, with two faces, and neither of them a true one," replied Valentine; "allow me to return to our friends."

"Begone, then, since you wish it."

"Thanks!"

"You will come back to Valdivia immediately, will you not?"