"If he is successful!" said Antonia, thoughtfully.
"You seem satisfied to see my life hang on a thread," Decoud replied,
with a broad smile. "And the other Montero, the 'my trusted brother' of
the proclamations, the guerrillero--haven't I written that he was taking
the guests' overcoats and changing plates in Paris at our Legation in
the intervals of spying on our refugees there, in the time of Rojas? He
will wash out that sacred truth in blood. In my blood! Why do you look
annoyed? This is simply a bit of the biography of one of our great men.
What do you think he will do to me? There is a certain convent wall
round the corner of the Plaza, opposite the door of the Bull Ring. You
know? Opposite the door with the inscription, _Intrada de la Sombra_.'
Appropriate, perhaps! That's where the uncle of our host gave up his
Anglo-South-American soul. And, note, he might have run away. A man
who has fought with weapons may run away. You might have let me go
with Barrios if you had cared for me. I would have carried one of those
rifles, in which Don Jose believes, with the greatest satisfaction, in
the ranks of poor peons and Indios, that know nothing either of reason
or politics. The most forlorn hope in the most forlorn army on earth
would have been safer than that for which you made me stay here. When
you make war you may retreat, but not when you spend your time in
inciting poor ignorant fools to kill and to die."
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