"No matter," Oliver said with some degree of rudeness; "to the deuce with nobility and fortune if they impose such obligations—better a life of adventure in the desert and poor independence; at any rate you are your own master."
"I am perfectly of your opinion; but for all that, I must bow my head. Now, will you permit me to ask you a question?"
"Of course, most readily—two if you like."
"How is it that we—who met by accident at the French hotel in Veracruz, just after I had landed—have become so quickly and intimately attached?"
"As for that, it is impossible for me to answer. You pleased me at first sight, your manner attracted me. I offered you my services; you accepted them, and we started together for Mexico. That is the whole story. When we arrive there we shall separate, doubtless, never to meet again, and all will be settled."
"Oh! Oh! Mr. Oliver, permit me to believe that you are mistaken; that, on the contrary, we shall meet frequently, and that our acquaintance will soon become a solid friendship."
The other shook his head several times.
"My lord," he said at length, "you are a gentleman, rich, and of good standing in the world; while I am but an adventurer, of whose past life you are ignorant, and whose name you scarce know, even supposing the one I bear at this moment is real; our positions are too different; there is between us a line of demarcation too distinctly traced for us ever to stand on a footing of suitable equality toward each other. So soon as we have re-entered civilisation, I feel—for I am older than you, and have a greater experience of the world—that I should soon become a burden to you; hence do not insist on this point, but let us both remain in our place. This, be convinced, will be better both for you and me. I am at this moment your guide rather than your friend, and this position is the only one that suits me: leave it to me."
The count was preparing to reply; but Oliver sharply seized his arm.
"Silence," he said; "listen—"