"I do not understand this reproach that you address to me, my brave friend; explain yourself more clearly."
The Guaraní shook his head with a sorrowful air.
"What good will it be," pursued he, "since you mistrust me?"
"I mistrust you!" cried the young man, who felt that he was to blame, but who did not believe himself authorised to give up a secret which did not belong to him.
"Certainly, master. Look at these two glasses and two plates; look, moreover, at these remains of cigars."
"Well?"
"Well, do you think, then, that, if I did not know already, these things would not be sufficient to prove to me the presence of another person here besides yourself?"
"How? What do you know?"
"I know, master, that a man, whose name, if I chose, I could easily tell you, this morning entered the cavern, that you have given him hospitality, and that at the moment I am speaking, he is still here—hidden there—look," added he, stretching out his arm—"in that gallery."
"But then," cried the young man, violently, "since you are so well informed, you have then betrayed me?"