Tranquil and his comrades listened in extreme surprise to the monologue of the monk, not knowing exactly what to think of this man, and half inclined to deem him mad. The latter perceived the impression he produced on his hearers.
"Listen," he said, in a stern voice, and with a slight frown, "form what opinion of me you like, that is a matter of indifference to me; still I do not wish it to be said, that I requited your cordial hospitality by odious treachery."
"What do you mean?" Tranquil exclaimed.
"Listen to me. I uttered the word treachery, and perhaps I was wrong, for nothing proves to me that it is so; still, all sorts of reasons lead me to suppose that it is nothing else persons tried to force me into committing for your injury."
"Explain yourself, in Heaven's name; you speak in enigmas, and it is impossible to understand you."
"You are right, so I will be clear: which of you gentlemen bears the name of Tranquil?"
"It is I."
"Very good. Owing to certain circumstances, the recital of which would not at all interest you, I unluckily fell into the hands of the Apaches."
"Apaches!" Tranquil exclaimed, in surprise.
"Good Lord, yes," the monk continued; "and I assure you that when I found myself in their power, I did not feel at all comfortable. Still, I was wrong to be alarmed; far from inventing for me one of those atrocious tortures which they mercilessly inflict on the whites who are so unhappy as to become their prisoners, they treated me, on the contrary, with extreme gentleness."