"I feared it," murmured the young man; "but how is it that I have been brought up by the Guaycurus?"
"After the death of your mother, cowardly assassinated under the suspicion of a fault which she did not commit, I carried you away myself, to snatch you from the implacable hatred of a man who wished to kill you, and gave you to the care of Diogo."
"I thank him," said the young man, with wild energy; "but that race I hate; I am ashamed to belong to it, since the murderer of my mother was a member of it."
"It was a white," answered Zeno Cabral.
"Good! I do not wish ever to know," replied he, with energy, "what is the name of my family. What does it matter to me? I call myself Gueyma; I am a child of the Guaycurus; this name and title are sufficient. I do not wish any other."
"Gueyma," said Zeno, "you are a good-hearted man, I love you."
"One word more only," continued the young man. "Does the assassin of my mother still live?"
"He does."
"Will you aid me to find him?"
"I will confront him with you."