d through this
opening any one on the island could see clearly over the plain.

The little island had been formed originally by trees that had taken
root in the bed of the river; other trees, some green and others without
branches or foliage, had rested against these, and their roots had
become interlaced. Since then, many summers and winters must have
passed; and grasses and sedges, detached from the banks by the water,
had filled up the interstices. Then the dust, brought there by the
wind, had covered these with a crust of earth, and formed a kind of
solid ground for the floating island. Plants had grown along the banks;
the trunks of the willows had sent forth vigorous shoots, and, with the
reeds, had surrounded the island with a fringe of verdure. The island
was only a few feet in diameter; but a man lying, or even kneeling upon
it, was completely hidden by the willow-shoots.

The sun was going down, and a little shade was thrown by the leaves and
trees; in this shade was stretched the form of Fabian asleep. Bois-Rose
seemed to be watching over his sleep, hastily taken after the fatigues
of a long march, while Pepe refreshed himself by plunging in the water.
While Fabian slumbers, we shall raise the veil by which the young Count
hid from the eyes of his two friends his most secret and dearest
thoughts.

After his fall into the torrent, Pepe had forgotten that the enemy on
whom he had sworn vengeance was escaping, and both he and Bois-Rose had
thought only of rendering prompt assistance to Fabian. On returning to
consciousness, Fabian's first thought was to resume his interrupted
pursuit. The acquisition of the Golden Valley, and even the remembrance
of Dona Rosarita, were forgotten by the ardent wish of revenging his
mother.

Pepe, on his side, was not the man to draw back from his vow; and as for
Bois-Rose, his whole affections were centred in his two companions, and
he would have followed them to the end of the world. Their first
failure, far from discouraging them, did but excite their ardour; in
hatred as in love, obstacles are always a powerful stimulant to vigorous
minds. The pursuit had gradually presented a double object to Fabian;
it brought him near to the Golden Valley in the desert; and he nourished
a vague hope that the place pointed out to him was not the same as that
which the expedition led by Antonio de Mediana proposed to conquer.

Fabian said to himself, that the daughter of Don Aug