"Do not let that disturb you," cried the young man, quickly putting his hand into his pocket, and drawing from it the purse which the marchioness had given him; "there is the money."
"Oh!" said the Indian, with joy, "There is much more than we want."
But suddenly the painter became sad, and took the purse again from the hands of the Guaraní.
"I am mad," said he. "We cannot use that money, it is not ours; we have no right to make use of it."
Tyro looked at him with surprise.
"Yes," continued he, gently shaking his head, "this sum has been given to me by the person whom I have promised to save, in order to prepare everything for her flight."
"Well?" said the Indian.
"Why, now," resumed the young man, "the affair appears to me to be quite altered; I should have a right, I think, to save myself alone."
"Your situation is just the same, master; you can keep the word that you have given; in fact, perhaps you are in a better position today than you were yesterday, to organise, not only your flight, but that of these persons. I have foreseen all."
"Come, explain yourself; for I begin no longer to understand you at all."