"Here," said Curumilla, holding out the sword to the machi, "if you are innocent, Pillian will protect you, as he has protected my brother."
"Caramba! that is certain; Pillian always protects the innocent, and you are about to be a proof of it," said the Parisian, in whom the revived spirit of the gamin was now triumphant.
The machi cast around a look of despair; all eyes were expressive of impatience and curiosity; the unhappy wretch perceived but too plainly that he could look for help to nobody, and he formed his resolution instantly—he determined to die as he had lived, deceiving the crowd to the last minute.
"I fear nothing," he said, in a firm voice; "this steel will be harmless to me. You desire that I should go through the trial—I will obey. But, beware! Pillian is angry with your conduct towards me; the humiliation you impose upon me will be avenged by the terrible scourges which he will inflict upon you."
At these words of their prophet the Puelches were moved. They hesitated. For many long years they had been accustomed to place entire faith in his predictions, and they experienced a kind of fear in thus daring to accuse him of imposture. Valentine saw at a glance what was passing in their hearts.
"Capitally well played," he said, replying by a knowing wink to the triumphant smile of the machi; "now it is my turn. Let my brothers take heart!" he added, in a loud, firm voice. "No misfortune threatens them; this man speaks thus because he is afraid to die; he knows he is guilty, and that Pillian will not protect him."
The machi darted a glance at him gleaming with hatred, seized the sword, and, imitating as well as he knew how what he had seen, with desperate quickness plunged the blade down his throat. A stream of black blood sprang from his mouth, his eyes glared hideously, his arms shook convulsively, he staggered two steps forward, and fell flat upon his face. The people crowded round him—he was dead.
"Let this lying dog be thrown to the vultures," said Curumilla, kicking the lifeless body with contempt.
"We are brothers for life and death," cried Trangoil-Lanec, embracing Valentine.
"Well," the young man said with a smile, to his friend, "I think I have not got very badly through that affair—eh? You see, it is well, sometimes, to have practised many trades; even that of a mountebank may serve at need."