He was going to take up his new command in the North.

He walked, as the French say, on air, and he certainly swaggered in his gait on that thin base.

He was hardly surprised to see the Count Sarrion, one of the exclusives who had never accepted Queen Isabella's new military aristocracy, with his hat in one hand and the other extended towards him, on the platform awaiting his arrival.
"You will travel with us," said Sarrion.

And the General accepted, looking round to see that his attendants were duly impressed.
"I find," he said, seating himself and accepting a cigarette from Sarrion, "that each new success in life brings me new friends." "Making it necessary to abandon the old ones," suggested Sarrion.
"No, no," laughed the General, with a cackle, and a patronising hand upheld against the mere thought.

"One only adds to the number as one goes on; just as one adds to a little purse against the change of fortune, eh ?" And he looked from one to the other still, brown face with a cunning twinkle.