"I wish for nothing better than to explain myself, señor," L'Olonnais said, with a bantering air; "and in the first place, permit me to observe, that, though your cloak is so carefully buttoned, it is not sufficiently so to conceal the Franciscan garb you wear under it."
"I am indeed a monk of that order," the stranger answered, rather disconcerted; "but that does not prove that you know me."
"Granted, but I am certain that I shall bring back your recollection by a single word."
"I fancy you are mistaken, my dear señor, and that we never saw each other before."
"Are you quite sure of that?"
"Man, as you are aware, can never be sure of anything; still, it seems to me—"
"And yet, it is so long since we met; it is true that you possibly did not pay any great attention to me."
"On my honour, I know not what you mean," the monk remarked after attentively examining him for a minute or two.
"Come," the engagé said with a laugh, "I will take pity on your embarrassment; and, as I promised you, dissipate all your doubts by a single word; we saw each other on the island of Nevis. Do you remember me?"
At this revelation, the monk turned pale; he lost countenance, and for some minutes remained as if petrified; still the thought of denying the truth did not come to him for a second.