"But if I were discovered—if he were not guilty?"
"All the better. In that way you will acquire certainty."
"What you urge me to do is wrong. I have no right to act so."
"Well, I, who am only a wretched Criado, Excellency, whose actions have no serious import, will assume that right for your sake, Excellency." And by a gesture swift as thought, he seized the portfolio.
"Wretch!" Don Mariano shouted. "Stay, what are you going to do?"
"Save, perhaps, her you love, as you dare not do it yourself."
"My father will leave his slave free," the Indian interposed, "the Wacondah inspires him."
Don Mariano had not the courage to resist longer, for involuntarily an unknown feeling he could not explain, told him that he was wrong, and Bermudez did well to act so. The half-caste had, with the greatest coolness, opened the papers, not appearing to care for any seeming impropriety in his conduct.
"Oh!" he suddenly exclaimed, "did I not tell you, Excellency, that Heaven placed in your hands the proofs you had so long been seeking in vain? Read! read! and if it be possible, still doubt the testimony of your eyes, and refuse longer to believe in your brother's perfidy, and odious treason."
Don Mariano seized the papers with a feverish gesture, and hurriedly read them. After reading them two or three times, he stopped, raised his eyes to heaven, and then let his head fall in his hands with an expression of the utmost pain. "Oh, oh!" he muttered, in despair, "my brother! my brother!"