"My dear sir, in the country where we now are, we continually run the risk of being killed. In leaving France, I have made a complete abnegation of my life, persuaded that I shall never again see my country. I therefore consider every moment which passes without bringing me misfortune as a favour done me by Providence; so that, my mind being made up, I do not attach the least value to an existence which at any moment can be taken from me under the first pretext that turns up, and even, if need be, under the very slightest provocation."
"You have a rather strange philosophy."
"What can you expect? With the patriots, the royalists, the bandits, the Indians, and the wild animals that infest this country—blessed by Heaven as it is—it would be, in my opinion, folly to reckon on more than four-and-twenty hours of existence, and to form projects for the future."
M. Dubois burst out laughing.
"Nevertheless," said he, "it is necessary for us to think a little of the future just now, if it be but to choose the place where we shall camp for the night."
"Do not let that disquiet you. Have I not said that I would conduct you to my house."
"You have proposed it to me, it is true, but I do not know if I ought to accept your hospitality."
"It will be modest, for I am not rich—far from it; but you may depend it will be cordial."
"But the embarrassment that so great a number of guests will occasion you—"
"You are jesting, Monsieur, or you know very little of Spanish customs. Your people will not cause me any embarrassment."