ng the apartment. The walls, whitened with
stucco, were adorned with rare illuminated paintings set in gold frames,
some leathern chairs called _butacas_, several side tables--upon one of
which stood a silver brazero filled with red cinders of charcoal--these,
with a _fauteuil_ or two, and a mahogany couch of Anglo-American
manufacture, completed the furniture of the apartment.

Upon a table of polished balsam-wood stood several porous jars
containing water; beside them, on a large silver waiter, were
confections of several kinds; while heaped upon other dishes, also of
solid silver, were fruits both of the tropic and temperate climes--
oranges, granadillas, limes, and pitayas, here brought together to tempt
the appetite or assuage the thirst.

The appearance of these preparations denoted that Don Augustin expected
company. As soon as they had entered within the sala, the monk,
observing the well garnished tables, inquired if such was the case.

"Yes," answered the haciendado, "Don Estevan de Arechiza has sent me
word that he will arrive this evening with a somewhat numerous train,
and I have taken measures to entertain a guest of such importance. But
you say you wish to speak to me about some business--what is it, Friar
Jose Maria?"

The two now sat down, each choosing an easy-chair, and while Don
Augustin was lighting a cigar the monk commenced speaking as follows:

"I found the old woman seated upon a bank outside the door of her hut,
whither she had dragged herself to look out for my arrival. `Bless you,
good father!' said she, `you have arrived in time to receive my last
confession. But while you rest a little, I wish you to listen to what I
am going to say to him whom I have always treated as my own child, and
to whom I intend to leave a legacy of vengeance.'"

"What! holy father!" interrupted Don Augustin, "surely you did not
permit this infraction of God's law, who says, _vengeance belongs only
to Him_?"

"Why not?" replied the monk. "In these deserts, where neither laws nor
tribunals exist, every man must be his own avenger."

With this strange apology for his conduct, the monk continued:

"I sat down and listened to what she had to say to this adopted son. It
was this:--`Your father was _not_ killed by the Indians, as we were led
to believe. It was his companion who murdered him--for the purpose of
being the sole possessor of a secret, which I shall presently disclose--
but to you only, Marco