"I mean that I shall not turn back on the path I have hitherto followed; in a word, that I will not fly."
Don Martial was confounded by this answer.
"What do you intend doing, then?"
"Can you guess that? Why did we come to this place? For what purpose have we been travelling so long?"
"Excuse me, Don Sylva, but the question is now changed. You will do me the justice to allow that I have followed you without any observations—that I have been a faithful guide to you during this journey."
"I do so indeed. Now explain to me your notion."
"It is this, Don Sylva. So long as we only wandered about the prairies, at the risk of being devoured by wild beasts, I bowed my head, without attempting to oppose your designs, for I tacitly recognised that you were acting as you were bound to do. Even now, were you and I alone, I would bow without a murmur before the firm determination that animates you. But reflect that you have your daughter with you—that you condemn her to undergo nameless tortures in this fearful desert, where you force her to follow you, and which will probably swallow up both."
Don Sylva made no reply, so the Tigrero continued,—
"Our party is weak. We have provisions for only a few days; and you know, once in the Del Norte, we find no more water or game. If, during our excursion, we are assailed by a temporal, we are lost—lost, without resources, without hope!"
"All that you tell me is correct, I am well aware; still, I cannot follow your advice. Listen to me in your turn, Don Martial. The Count de Lhorailles is my friend; he will soon be my son-in-law. I do not say this to vex you, but only that you may thoroughly understand my position with regard to him. It was for my sake, to save me from those whom he supposed to have carried me off, that, without calculation, and solely urged by his noble heart, he entered the desert. Can I allow him to perish without trying to bring him succour? Is he not a stranger to Mexico—our guest, in a word? It is my duty to save him, and I will attempt it, whatever may happen."