"In four hours, mi amo."
"Do you think that don Zeno will already have arrived, and that we shall meet him?"
"Who knows, mi amo? If the señor don Zeno wishes to have arrived there, he will be there."
Beaten on this point as on the first, I finally gave up asking my guide questions, to which, according to his pleasure, he made such ridiculous answers, and I confined myself to giving him the order to proceed.
By degrees, as we ascended the valley, the landscape changed, and assumed aspects of a striking character. I thus traversed, without perceiving it, the pretty considerable space which separated me from the fazenda.
At the moment when we began to ascend a rather wide and well-kept path that conducted to the first buildings, I perceived a horseman who was galloping towards me at full speed.
My guide touched me lightly on the arm with a quiver of fear.
"Do you not recognise him? It is the seigneur don Zeno Cabral."
"Impossible!" I cried.
The Indian shook his head several times.