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“Then I will take the other hundred to-morrow,” said Ramirez, lightly. Don Rafael stared at him blankly. There was something in the General’s face that almost sobered him. The countenance of Gonzales darkened.

“Believe me, Señor Comonfort shall know of your goodwill, and that of the excellent lady Doña Isabel,” continued Ramirez, suavely. “She will lose nothing by the complacency of her administrador,” and as he spoke, he smiled half indulgently, half contemptuously, upon Don Rafael.

“You promised me that here at least no seizures should be made,” exclaimed Don Vicente, in a low indignant voice, hot with the thought that even the men he had himself mustered and commanded were so utterly under the spell of Ramirez that upon any disagreement they were likely to shift their allegiance,—for those free companies were even less to be depended upon than the easily rebellious regulars.

“There have been no seizures, nor will there be,” answered the General, laughing. “Don Rafael and I have been talking together as friends and brothers; he has told me of his amiable family, and I him of my footsore troops.”