"A young girl has prayed for the return of Martin Paz, for she has not forgotten that the young Indian protected her and risked his life for her. If the Sambo has any news of his poor son, or any hope of finding him, let him surround his arm with a red handkerchief; there are eyes which see him pass daily."
The Sambo crushed the billet in his hand.
"The unhappy boy," said he, "has suffered himself to be caught by the eyes of a woman."
"Who is this woman?" asked Manangani.
"It is not an Indian," replied the Sambo, observing the billet; "it is some young girl of the other classes. Martin Paz, I no longer know thee!"
"Shall you do what this woman requests?"
"No," replied the Indian, violently; "let her lose all hope of seeing him again; let her die, if she will."
And the Sambo tore the billet in a rage.
"It must have been an Indian who brought this billet," observed Manangani.
"Oh, it cannot have been one of ours! He must have known that I often came to this inn, but I will set my foot in it no more. We have occupied ourselves long enough with trifling affairs," resumed he, coldly; "let my brother return to the mountains; I will remain to watch over the city. We shall see whether the fête of the Amancaës will be joyous for the oppressors or the oppressed!"