before his
wedding: public gaming, prohibited at Lima, is perfectly tolerated
elsewhere. The passion of the Limanian ladies and gentlemen for this
hazardous amusement is singular and irresistible.

The games were open some days before the arrival of the Marquis Don
Vegal; thenceforth there was a perpetual movement of the populace on the
road from Lima: some came on foot, who returned in carriages; others
were about to risk and lose the last remnants of their fortunes.

Don Vegal and Martin Paz took no part in these exciting pleasures. The
reveries of the young Indian had more noble causes; he was thinking of
Sarah and of his benefactor.

The concourse of the Limanians to the Baths of Chorillos was without
danger for him; little known by the inhabitants of the city, like all
the mountain Indians he easily concealed himself from all eyes.

After his evening walk with the marquis, Martin Paz would return to his
room, and leaning his elbow on the window, pass long hours in allowing
his tumultuous thoughts to wander over the Pacific Ocean. Don Vegal
lodged in a neighboring chamber, and guarded him with paternal
tenderness.

The Spaniard always remembered the daughter of Samuel, whom he had so
unexpectedly seen at prayer in the Catholic temple. But he had not dared
to confide this important secret to Martin Paz while instructing him by
degrees in Christian truths; he feared to re-animate sentiments which he
wished to extinguish--for the poor Indian, unknown and proscribed, must
renounce all hope of happiness! Father Joachim kept Don Vegal informed
of the progress of affairs: the police had at last ceased to trouble
themselves about Martin Paz; and with time and the influence of his
protector, the Indian, become a man of merit and capable of great
things, might one day take rank in the highest Peruvian society.

Weary of the uncertainty into which his incognito plunged him, Paz
resolved to know what had become of the young Jewess. Thanks to his
Spanish costume, he could glide into a gaming-saloon, and listen to the
conversation of its various frequenters. Andre Certa was a man of so
much importance, that his marriage, if it was approaching, would be the
subject of conversation.

One evening, instead of directing his steps toward the sea, the Indian
climbed over the high rocks on which the principal habitations of
Chorillos are built; a house, fronted by broad stone steps, struck his
eyes--he entered it without noise.