hospitality, but forcibly
detained until the expiration of the term.'"

"Yes, yes! a voluntary prison," said Rodin.

"'On these conditions, you will receive a pension of one thousand francs
a month, to begin from your departure from Paris, ten thousand francs
down, and twenty thousand at the end of the six months--the whole to be
completely secured to you. Finally, at the end of the six months, we will
place you in a position both honorable and independent.'"

Djalma having stopped short, with involuntary indignation, Rodin said to
him: "Let me beg you to continue, my dear prince. Read to the end, and it
will give you some idea of what passes in the midst of our civilization."

Djalma resumed: "'You know well enough the course of affairs, and what we
are, to feel that in providing for your absence, we only wish to get rid
of an enemy, not very dangerous, but rather troublesome. Do not be
blinded by your first success. The results of your denunciation will be
stifled, because they are calumnious. The judge who received your
evidence will soon repent his odious partiality. You may make what use
you please of this letter. We know what we write, to whom we write, and
how we write. You will receive this letter at three o'clock; if by four
o'clock we have not your full and complete acceptance, written with your
own hand at the bottom of this letter, war must commence between us--and
not from to-morrow, but on the instant.'"

Having finished reading the letter, Djalma looked at Rodin, who said to
him: "Permit me to summon Faringhea."

He rang the bell, and the half-caste appeared. Rodin took the letter from
the hands of Djalma, tore it into halves, rubbed it between his palms, so
as to make a sort of a ball, and said to the half-caste, as he returned
it to him: "Give this palter to the person who waits for it, and tell him
that is my only answer to his shameless and insolent letter; you
understand me--this shameless and insolent letter."

"I understand." said the half-caste; and he went out.

"This will perhaps be a dangerous war for you, father, said the Indian,
with interest.

"Yes, dear prince, it may be dangerous, but I am not like you; I have no
wish to kill my enemies, because they are cowardly and wicked. I fight
them under the shield of the law. Imitate me in this." Then, seeing that
the countenance of Djalma darkened, he added: "I am wrong. I will advise
you no more on this subject. Only, let us defer the dec