"Here is your history in two words, sir," he said. "You are an Andalusian, born at Malaga, a younger son, and consequently destined to take orders. One fine day, not feeling any liking for the tonsure, you fled from the paternal roof and embarked on a Spanish vessel bound for Hispaniola. Your name is Don Antonio de la Ronda. You see, sir, that up to this point I am well informed, am I not?"
"Pray go on, sir," the stranger replied, with perfect coolness; "your remarks are most interesting." Montbarts shrugged his shoulders, and went on.
"On arriving at Hispaniola, you contrived, in a short time, thanks to your good looks and polished manners, to secure powerful protectors; and thus, though you only left Europe three years ago, you have made such rapid progress, that you are at present one of the most influential men in the colony. Unluckily—"
"Do you say unluckily?" the stranger interrupted with a jeering smile.
"Yes, sir," the adventurer replied imperturbably; "unluckily your fortune turned your head so thoroughly—"
"So thoroughly?"
"That in defiance of your friends, you were arrested and threatened with a trial for embezzling a sum of nearly two million piastres; a noble amount, on which I compliment you. Any other man but you, sir, I feel a pleasure in allowing the fact, would have been ruined, or nearly so, as the case was very serious; and the Council of the Indies does not joke on money matters."
"Permit me to interrupt you, my dear sir," the stranger said with the most perfect ease; "you are telling this story in a very talented manner, but if you go on so, it threatens to last indefinitely. If you permit it, I will finish it in a few words."
"Ah! Ah! Then you allow its truth now?"
"Of course," the stranger said with admirable coolness.