"Do you not fear that he will find your presence in the suburb of San Lazaro at this hour unaccountable?"
"I am where my fancy and my will have brought me."
"Before the house of the Jew?"
"Those of my brethren who are disposed to find fault can meet me to-night in the mountain."
The eyes of the three men sparkled, and this was all. The zambos regained the bank of the Rimac, and the sound of their footsteps died away in the darkness.
Martin Paz had hastily approached the house of the Jew. This house, like all those of Lima, had but two stories; the ground floor, built of bricks, was surmounted with walls formed of canes tied together and covered with plaster; all this part of the building, constructed to resist earthquakes, imitated, by a skillful painting, the bricks of the lower story; the square roof, called asoetas, was covered with flowers, and formed a terrace full of perfumes and pretty points of view.
A vast gate, placed between two pavilions, gave access to a court; but as usual, these pavilions had no window opening upon the street.
The clock of the parish church was striking eleven when Martin Paz stopped before the dwelling of Sarah. Profound silence reigned around; a flickering light within proved that the saloon of the Jew Samuel was still occupied.
Why does the Indian stand motionless before these silent walls? The cool atmosphere woos him with its transparency and its perfumes; the radiant stars send down upon the sleeping earth rays of diaphanous mildness; the white constellations illumine the darkness with their enchanting light; his heart believes in those sympathetic communications which brave time and distance.
A white form appears upon the terrace amid the flowers to which night has only left a vague outline, without diminishing their delicious perfumes; the dahlias mingle with the mentzelias, with the helianthus, and, beneath the occidental breeze, form a waving basket which surrounds Sarah, the young and beautiful Jewess.