Senhor Mendez raised himself from his couch, and gazed anxiously at Luis, as he entered. “This is kind of you, though what I expected you would do, my young friend,” he said, faintly, “when you were told of my illness. Words of thanks to you, Captain Pinto, are valueless, when compared to what I owe you.”
Don Luis expressed his sincere regret at finding him yet so far from recovered. He smiled faintly as he answered, “I fear it is the nearest approach I shall make to recovery in this world, yet the great hope of reviving in a far purer existence sustains my oft drooping spirits; but I fain would tarry longer here, for I have much to do which I would not willingly leave undone. Captain Pinto is my executor, it may, perchance, be but of a pauper’s fortune, and at present I owe everything to him. He, like the good Samaritan whom the priests tell us of, has sheltered and fed the houseless and poverty-stricken wanderer. Remember my words, Don Luis, for they are not spoken idly. Truly does he follow the first great rule of charity; and, though it has become a principle of his existence, I am not the less thankful to him.”
“Do not speak thus of me, my friend,” interrupted the generous sailor. “I am but acting towards you as you would have done by me.”
Luis, with much hesitation, begged to be allowed to afford his aid, if possible.
“I feel confident that you would,” returned Senhor Mendez. “But Captain Pinto acts the part of a brother towards me, and what is of nearer kindred? so that I cannot deprive him of the privilege he claims.”
Their conversation was long and interesting. The sick man made minute inquiries respecting the Count d’Almeida, and seemed grieved on hearing that he would not return to Lisbon. He advised Luis to cultivate the friendship of the Minister, and spoke with a tone of satisfaction, on hearing that he had offered to befriend him. He warned him not to fall into the vices of the fidalgos, and to shun their bigotry, and overbearing, illiberal conduct. Indeed, he showed himself to be a person far in advance of the generality of his countrymen with regard to his opinions. He informed Luis, also, that he was in daily expectation of receiving accounts from England of the safety of the fortune he had transmitted there from India. The conversation seemed to have revived him; and when Luis, having promised again to call on him, quitted him with the captain, they both felt stronger hopes of his recovery than when they first entered.
Volume Two—Chapter Seven.
We must now follow the Count San Vincente, and his gay and thoughtless friend, whom the former hurried away from the palace of the Marchioness of Corcunda.