The Indian adroitly glided into this magnificent dwelling; he could not remain in the street, where curious zambos were thronging around, attracted by the carriages. The gates of the hotel were soon carefully closed, and the Indian found flight impossible.
Some lacqueys were going to and fro in the court; Martin Paz rapidly passed up a rich stairway of cedar-wood, ornamented with valuable tapestry; the saloons, still illuminated, presented no convenient place of refuge; he crossed them with the rapidity of lightning, and disappeared in a room filled with protecting darkness.
The last lustres were quickly extinguished, and the house became profoundly silent.
The Indian Paz, as a man of energy to whom moments are precious, hastened to reconnoitre the place, and to find the surest means of evasion; the windows of this chamber opened on an interior garden; flight was practicable, and Martin Paz was about to spring from them, when he heard these words:
"Señor, you have forgotten to take the diamonds which I had left on that table!"
Martin Paz turned. A man of noble stature and of great pride of countenance was pointing to a jewel-case.
At this insult Martin Paz laid his hand on his poignard. He approached the Spaniard, who stood unmoved, and, in a first impulse of indignation, raised his arm to strike him; but turning his weapon against himself, said, in a deep tone,
"Señor, if you repeat such words, I will kill myself at your feet."
The Spaniard, astonished, looked at the Indian more attentively, and through his tangled and dripping locks perceived so lofty a frankness, that he felt a strange sympathy fill his heart. He went toward the window, gently closed it, and returned toward the Indian, whose poignard had fallen to the ground.
"Who are you?" said he to him.