"He is an orphan I have brought up."
"It is strange that I should have never seen him before."
"I presume you never noticed him before now."
"That is possible," the count said, suppressing a sigh, "still, it seems to me, I know not why, that had I seen him before, his face would not have passed out of my memory; there is something about it which struck me. Have you had him long?"
"He was six years old, I believe, when Sotavento brought him to me. Since that time he has constantly been with me; he is, I think, of Indian origin, although his features are more marked than those of the redskins, and his complexion whiter; but that means nothing on the border, where crossings of breed are so frequent."
"That is true," the count murmured, as he passed his hand over his forehead, as if to drive away a painful thought; "forgive me, my friend, I do not know where my head was; the questions I asked you must have appeared to you most indiscreet."
"Not at all; I am greatly attached to this young man, who deserves in every respect all that I have done for him. Hence I can only feel flattered when others beside myself take an interest in him, for it proves that I was not deceived with respect to him. Now, that it is arranged you will not start till tomorrow—"
"At sunrise," the count interrupted.
"Very good," the hacendero continued; "permit me to discharge a mission I have undertaken toward you."
"A mission!" the count said with surprise.