Martin Paz arose all bloody. The place was free, the soldiers flying in every direction. Martin Paz might have conquered had he remained on the Plaza-Mayor. He fell into the arms of Don Vegal.
"To the mountains, my son; flee to the mountains! now I command it."
"Is my enemy indeed dead?" said Martin Paz, returning to the corpse of André Certa.
A man was that moment searching it, and held a pocket-book which he had taken from it. Martin Paz sprang on this man and overthrew him; it was the Jew Samuel.
The Indian picked up the pocket-book, opened it hastily, searched it, uttered a cry of joy, and springing toward the marquis, put in his hand a paper on which were written these words:
"Received of the Señor André Certa the sum of 100,000 piasters; I pledge myself to restore this sum doubled, if Sarah, whom I saved from the shipwreck of the San-José, and whom he is about to espouse, is not the daughter and only heir of the Marquis Don Vegal.
"Samuel."
"My daughter! my daughter!" exclaimed the Spaniard, and he fell into the arms of Martin Paz, who carried him to the chamber of Sarah.
Alas! the young girl was no longer there; Father Joachim, bathed in his own blood, could articulate only these words:
"The Sambo!—carried off!—toward the river of Madeira!—"