some who wait for me,' he added with a sigh--'and there are some,
too, who follow me.' And the momentary look of softness passed from
his features between the clauses of the sentence, and gave place to an
expression almost of ferocity. 'Now, is it finished? That is well.
See, I can walk as firmly as though I had never been wounded. Give me
some bread; pay yourself for your hospitality with this piece of gold,
and adieu.'

The priest put back the gold with displeasure. 'I am not an
innkeeper,' said he; 'and I do not sell my hospitality.'

'As you will, but pardon me; and now, farewell, my kind host.'

So saying, he took the bread, which Margarita, at her master's
command, very unwillingly gave him, and soon his tall figure
disappeared among the thick foliage of a wood which surrounded the
house, or rather the cabin. An hour had scarcely passed, when
musket-shots were heard close by, and the unknown reappeared, deadly
pale, and bleeding from a deep wound near the heart.

'Take these,' said he, giving some pieces of gold to his late host;
'they are for my children--near the stream--in the valley.'

He fell, and the next moment several police-officers rushed into the
house. They hastily secured the unfortunate man, who attempted no
resistance. The priest entreated to be allowed to dress his wound,
which they permitted; but when this was done, they insisted on
carrying him away immediately. They would not even procure a carriage;
and when they were told of the danger of removing a man so severely
wounded, they merely said: 'What does it matter? If he recovers, it
will only be to receive sentence of death. He is the famous brigand,
Jose!'

Jose thanked the intercessor with a look. He then asked for a little
water, and when the priest brought it to him, he said in a faint
voice: 'Remember!' The reply was merely a sign of intelligence. When
they were gone, notwithstanding all Margarita could say as to the
danger of going out at night, the priest crossed the wood, descended
into the valley, and soon found, beside the body of a woman, who had
doubtless been killed by a stray ball of the police, an infant, and a
little boy of about four years old, who was trying in vain to awaken
his mother. Imagine Margarita's amazement when the priest returned
with two children in his arms.

'May all good saints defend us! What have you done, senor? We have
barely enough to live upon, and you bring two children! I suppose I
must beg fro