"Why, because we shall all be massacred before reaching it."
"Hum, Diogo; you become monotonous, my friend."
"The end will prove me right, my lord."
"Be silent, prophet of bad omen. At what distance do you think we are from the Paulistas?"
"Thirty leagues at the most."
"What! Thirty leagues; no more? Come, you are becoming foolish, with your puerile fears."
"You will see, your Excellency, you will see."
"Well, let it be so; the die is cast, I will try, whatever happens. At break of day we will leave."
"With your permission, my lord, I think that as you absolutely are determined on a foolish thing, would it not be more suitable to do it in a logical way?"
"Which means—"