have finished
by handing over the document. Would not Torres, whom nothing could
compromise, have been persuaded to speak, had money been brought to bear
upon him? Would not the long-sought-for proof have been furnished to the
judge? Yes, undoubtedly! And the only man who could have furnished this
evidence had been killed through Benito!

Such was what the wretched man continually repeated to his mother, to
Manoel, and to himself. Such were the cruel responsibilities which his
conscience laid to his charge.

Between her husband, with whom she passed all the time that was allowed
her, and her son, a prey to despair which made her tremble for his
reason, the brave Yaquita lost none of her moral energy. In her they
found the valiant daughter of Magalhaes, the worthy wife of the fazender
of Iquitos.

The attitude of Joam Dacosta was well adapted to sustain her in this
ordeal. That gallant man, that rigid Puritan, that austere worker, whose
whole life had been a battle, had not yet shown a moment of weakness.

The most terrible blow which had struck him without prostrating him had
been the death of Judge Ribeiro, in whose mind his innocence did not
admit of a doubt. Was it not with the help of his old defender that he
had hoped to strive for his rehabilitation? The intervention of Torres
he had regarded throughout as being quite secondary for him. And of this
document he had no knowledge when he left Iquitos to hand himself over
to the justice of his country. He only took with him moral proofs. When
a material proof was unexpectedly produced in the course of the affair,
before or after his arrest, he was certainly not the man to despise it.
But if, on account of regrettable circumstances, the proof disappeared,
he would find himself once more in the same position as when he passed
the Brazilian frontier--the position of a man who came to say, "Here is
my past life; here is my present; here is an entirely honest existence
of work and devotion which I bring you. You passed on me at first an
erroneous judgment. After twenty-three years of exile I have come to
give myself up! Here I am; judge me again!"

The death of Torres, the impossibility of reading the document found on
him, had thus not produced on Joam Dacosta the impression which it had
on his children, his friends, his household, and all who were interested
in him.

"I have faith in my innocence," he repeated to Yaquita, "as I have
faith in God. If my life is st