amuel for nothing."

"Certainly not! On his account-books are inscribed aristocratic
creditors; in his strong-box are piled the wrecks of great fortunes; and
in the day when the Spaniards shall be as ragged as their Caesar de
Bazan, we will have fine sport."

"Yes, we will have fine sport, dear Andre, mounted on your millions, on
a golden pedestal! And you are about to double your fortune! When are
you to marry the beautiful young daughter of old Samuel, a Limanienne to
the end of her nails, with nothing Jewish about her but her name of
Sarah?"

"In a month," replied Andre Certa, proudly, "there will be no fortune in
Peru which can compete with mine."

"But why," asked some one, "do you not espouse some Spanish girl of high
descent?"

"I despise these people as much as I hate them."

Andre Certa concealed the fact of his having been repulsed by several
noble families, into which he had sought to introduce himself.

His interlocutor still wore an expression of doubt, and the brow of the
mestizo had contracted, when the latter was rudely elbowed by a man of
tall stature, whose gray hairs proclaimed him to be at least fifty,
while the muscular force of his firmly knit limbs seemed undiminished by
age.

This man was clad in a brown vest, through which appeared a coarse shirt
with a broad collar; his short breeches, striped with green, were
fastened by red garters to stockings of clay-color; on his feet were
sandals made of _ojotas_, ox-hide prepared for this purpose; beneath his
high-pointed hat gleamed large ear-rings. His complexion was dark. After
having jostled Andre Certa, he looked at him fixedly, but with no
particular expression.

"Miserable Indian!" exclaimed the mestizo, raising his hand upon him.

His companions restrained him. Milleflores, whose face was pale with
terror, exclaimed:

"Andre! Andre! take care."

"A vile slave! to presume to elbow me!"

"It is a madman! it is the _Sambo_!"

The _Sambo_, as the name indicated, was an Indian of the mountains; he
continued to fix his eyes on the mestizo, whom he had intentionally
jostled. The latter, whose anger was unbounded, had seized a poignard at
his girdle, and was about to have rushed on the impassable aggressor,
when a guttural cry, like that of the _cilguero_, (a kind of linnet of
Peru,) re-echoed in the midst of the tumult of promenaders, and the
Sambo disappeared.

"Brutal and cowardly!" exclaimed Andre.

"Control yourself," said Mill