"I thank you for this frankness, señor," answered the young man, smiling.
"You misunderstand me, caballero," pursued the partisan with animation, "and that does not surprise me. You cannot understand the strange and abnormal position that we Southern Americans occupy at this time. I speak decisively, because I expect a last service, or, if you prefer to call it so, a last proof of your generosity."
Emile Gagnepain was a thoroughly clear-sighted man. The deliberate manner of the partisan who, while passing lightly over the details, yet confessed his errors, pleased him by its very eccentricity.
"Speak, Don Sebastiao," he answered; "I shall be happy to render you the service that you expect, if it is in my power."
"I know it, and I thank you for it, señor. I will state what it is in a few words."
"Speak, señor," answered the young man, his curiosity excited by such long preambles.
Don Zeno appeared for some time a prey to uncertainty and indecision; but, overcoming his feelings, whatever they were, he cast a look to where Don Pablo Pincheyra was apathetically smoking a cigarette, without appearing in any way to concern himself with the conversation.
"Here is the fact in a few words," he said; "Don Pablo Pincheyra, my friend, has informed me that you accompanied the Marchioness de Castelmelhor and her daughter, when his brother conducted them to Casa-Frama."
"That is true," gravely answered the painter; "these ladies did me the honour to accept me as guide."
"Then you are devoted to them?" decisively asked the partisan.