"Good, you still retain the same feeling."
"Why should I have changed? You are my only friend."
"Thanks, then you are resolved to obey me in everything?"
"Without hesitation, I swear it."
"That is what I wished to be certain of, now listen to me in your turn: this man whom you have succored so foolishly—forgive the word—lied from the first to the last word he told you. The story he told you is a tissue of falsehoods: it is not true that he had only arrived a few days before from Veracruz, it is not true that he is going to Mexico, and lastly it is not true that he was attacked and plundered by strangers. This man I know: he has been in Mexico for the last eight months, he lives in Puebla, he was condemned to death by men who had a right to try him and with whom he is perfectly well acquainted: he was not attacked unawares, a sword was placed in his hand, and he received permission to defend himself—a permission which he took advantage of, and he fell in fair fight: finally, he was not plundered, because he had not to do with highwaymen but with men of honour."
"Oh, oh," said the young man, "this alters the case."
"Now answer this: you have pledged yourself to him?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"This man, when he regained his senses and was able to speak, implored your protection; did he not?"
"That is true, Master Oliver."