"Thanks for having saved my life, brother," the sufferer answered.
"I am not your brother, monk," the stranger said, mockingly; "I am a heretic, a gringo, as you are pleased to call us; look at me, you have not examined me yet with sufficient attention; have I not horns and goat's feet?"
These words were uttered with such a sarcastic accent, that the monk was momentarily confounded.
"Who are you, then?" he at length asked, with secret apprehension.
"What does that concern you?" the other said, with an ill-omened laugh; "The demon, mayhap."
The monk made a sudden effort to rise, and crossed himself repeatedly.
"May Heaven save me from falling into the hands of the Evil Spirit!" he added.
"Well, you ass," the other said, as he shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, "reassure yourself, I am not the demon, but a man like yourself, perhaps not quite so hypocritical, though, that's the only difference."
"Do you speak truly? Are you really one of my fellow men, disposed to serve me?"
"Who can answer for the future?" the stranger replied, with an enigmatical smile; "Up to the present, at any rate, you have had no cause of complaint against me.