, nor the most
lonely plains. If you pay me dearly for it, it is because it is worth
telling and worth keeping."

As they spoke thus, these two men had reached the sea, near the cabins
destined for the use of the bathers. They knew not that they were seen,
heard and watched by Martin Paz, who glided like a serpent in the
shadow.

"Let us take a canoe," said Andre, "and go out into the open sea; the
sharks may, perhaps, show themselves discreet."

Andre detached from the shore a little boat, and threw some money to its
guardian. Samuel embarked with him, and the mestizo pushed off. He
vigorously plied two flexible oars, which soon took them a mile from the
shore.

But as he saw the canoe put off, Martin Paz, concealed in a crevice of
the rock, hastily undressed, and precipitating himself into the sea,
swam vigorously toward the boat.

The sun had just buried his last rays in the waves of the ocean, and
darkness hovered over the crests of the waves.

Martin Paz had not once reflected that sharks of the most dangerous
species frequented these fatal shores. He stopped not far from the boat
of the mestizo, and listened.

"_But what proof of the identity of the daughter shall I carry to the
father?_" asked Andre Certa of the Jew.

"You will recall to him the circumstances under which he lost her."

"What were these circumstances?"

Martin Paz, now scarcely above the waves, listened without
understanding. In a girdle attached to his body, he had a poignard; he
waited.

"Her father," said the Jew, "lived at Concencion, in Chili: he was then
the great nobleman he is now; only his fortune equalled his nobility.
Obliged to come to Lima on business, he set out alone, leaving at
Concencion his wife, and child aged fifteen months. The climate of Peru
agreed with him, and he sent for the marchioness to rejoin him. She
embarked on the _San-Jose_ of Valparaiso, with her confidential
servants.

"I was going to Peru in the same ship. The _San-Jose_ was about to enter
the harbor of Lima; but, near Juan Fernandez, was struck by a terrific
hurricane, which disabled her and threw her on her side--it was the
affair of half an hour. The _San-Jose_ filled with water and was slowly
sinking; the passengers and crew took refuge in the boat, but at sight
of the furious waves, the marchioness refused to enter it; she pressed
her infant in her arms, and remained in the ship. I remained with
her--the boat was swallowed up at a hundred