"I am going, Señor Don Emile; we leave on good terms, I hope?"
"I do not see why it should be otherwise, señor," answered the young man, taking the hand that was extended to him.
"Thank you; adieu, Don Emile," and he went towards his horse, that he began to saddle and bridle.
The French painter had risen, and had gone to the wild beasts, which the Indian chiefs, as soon as their conversation was ended, had proceeded to skin. The young man was anxious to be present at this curious operation, which the Guaycurus, armed only with their knives, executed with unimaginable skill and rapidity.
"Don Emile!" cried Zeno Cabral.
"What do you want with me, señor?" answered the latter.
"Not adieu; it is au revoir that I ought to have said; I do not know how it is, but I have the conviction that we shall soon see one another again."
"And I, too," answered the painter.
"What do you mean?" asked Zeno Cabral.
"Nothing more than what you say yourself, señor; you have a conviction—I have a presentiment—is there anything astonishing in that?"