‘Only as a friend,’ he said. ‘Come in, General.’
General Vincente entered the room followed by Estella. He nodded to Concha and kissed his niece affectionately.
‘Still obdurate?’ he said, with a semi-playful tap on her shoulder. ‘Still obdurate? My dear Julia, in peace and war the greatest quality in the strong is mercy. You have proved yourself strong—you have worsted that unfortunate Alcalde—be merciful to him now, and let this incident finish.’
He drew forward a chair, the others being seated, and laid aside his gloves. The sword which he held upright between his knees, with his two hands resting on the hilt, looked incongruously large and reached the level of his eyes. He gave a little chuckling laugh.
‘I saw him last night at the Café Real—the poor man had the air of a funeral, and took his wine as if it were sour. Ah! these civilians, they amuse one—they take life so seriously.’
He laughed and looked round at those assembled as if inviting them to join him in a gayer and easier view of existence. The Padre’s furrowed face answered the summons in a sudden smile, but it was with grave eyes that he looked searchingly at the most powerful man in Andalusia; for General Vincente’s word was law south of the Tagus.
The two men sat side by side in strong contrast. Fate indeed seems to shake men together in a bag, and cast them out upon the world heedless where they may fall; for here was a soldier in the priest’s habit, and one carrying a sword who had the keen heart and sure sympathy for joy or sorrow that should ever be found within a black coat if the Master’s work is to be well done.
General Vincente smiled at Estella with _sang-froid_ and an unruffled good nature, while the Padre Concha, whose place it surely was to take the lead in such woman’s work as this, slowly rubbed his bony hands together, at a loss and incompetent to meet the urgency of the moment.
‘Our guest left us yesterday morning,’ said the General, ‘and of course the Alcalde placed no hindrance on his departure.’
He did not look at Julia, who drew a deep breath and glanced at Estella.
‘I do not know if Señor Conyngham left any message for you with Estella—to me he said nothing,’ continued Estella’s father; and that young lady shook her head.