"Yes, that's it, Fray Arsenio. Well, why does he persist in remaining invisible?"
"For an excellent reason, Excellency; the reason I had the honour of explaining to you last evening."
"That is possible—I do not say you did not; but everything is so confused in my mind," he said, with feigned indifference, "that I no longer remember what you told me on the subject; you will therefore oblige me by repeating it."
"That is easy, Excellency. Fray Arsenio left us at the moment when we landed, and has not reappeared at the hatto since."
"That is singular: and does not Doña Clara appear alarmed and vexed at so long an absence?"
"Not at all, Excellency; the señora never speaks of Fray Arsenio, and does not inquire whether he has returned or not."
"It is strange," the young man muttered to himself; "what is the meaning of this mysterious absence?"
After this aside, the Count suddenly broke off the conversation and resumed the chase. They had been absent from the hatto for some hours, and had insensibly gone a very considerable distance; the sun was nearing the horizon, and the Count was preparing to turn back, when suddenly a great noise of breaking branches was heard at the skirt of the forest, from which they were only separated by a few shrubs, and several wild oxen dashed on to the savannah, pursued, or, to speak more correctly, hunted, by a dozen hounds, which barked furiously while snapping at them.
The oxen, seven or eight in number, passed like a tornado two horse lengths from the Count, to whom this unexpected apparition caused such a surprise, that he remained for a moment motionless, not knowing what to do.
The savage animals, still harassed by the hounds, which did not leave them, made a sudden wheel, and turning back, seemed trying to enter the forest at the spot where they had left it; but they had hardly resumed their flight in that direction, when a fusil was discharged, and a bull, struck in the head, fell dead on the ground.