When the visitors were seated, Zeno Cabral, after offering them tobacco, which they accepted, resumed—
"Chiefs, you some days ago asked an interview with me; here I am at your orders. Will you, therefore, give me your views, as you know as well as I do how time presses."
"Señor Don Zeno Cabral, for many a year we have known one another," answered the Cougar.
"Yes," said the partisan, whose brow lowered; "it is you, Diogo, who, when I was still young, came through a thousand perils to tell me of the sad death of my sister. From that day we have constantly been in relations with each other. I will add, Diogo," he said, with suppressed emotion, "that I have never met a heart more devoted, a friend more sincere than you, or a soul more grand and noble."
"I have done my duty towards you, and towards my mistress, Señor Don Zeno."
"On one point, Diogo—on one only—I may have reason to reproach you. You have never told me how my poor sister died, or where is her grave."
"Caballero," answered Diogo, with ill-concealed embarrassment, "a solemn oath closes my mouth. But a day will come when you will know all."
Zeno Cabral's head sank despondingly, and he did not answer.
"Will you permit me, your lordship," said the Cougar, "to resume the conversation where we left off?"
The partisan made a gesture of acquiescence.