“I have lived a long life and done a good work, and though I shall be sorry to leave you, I am quite content to go,” he said one day to Angela and me. “It is not in my power to bequeath you a fortune, in the ordinary sense of the word, for money I have none, yet so long as the mission prospers you will be better off than if I could give you millions. But everything human is ephemeral and I cannot disguise from myself the possibility of some great disaster befalling you. Those mountains contain both gold and silver, and an invasion of treasure-seekers, either from the sea or the Cordillera would be the ruin of the mission. My poor people would be demoralized, perhaps destroyed, and you would be compelled to quit Quipai and return to the world. For that contingency, though I hope it will never come to pass, you must be prepared, and I will point out the way. The mountains, as I have said, contain silver and gold; and contain something even more precious than silver and gold—diamonds, I made the discovery nearly half a century ago, and I confess that, for a time, the temptation was almost more than I could withstand. With such wealth as I saw at my disposal I might do anything, be anything, enrich my order, win distinction for myself, and attain to high rank, perhaps the highest, in the church, or leave it and become a power in the world, a master of men and the guest of princes. Yes, it was a sore temptation, but with God’s help, I overcame it and chose the better part, the path of duty, and I have my reward. I brought a few diamonds away with me, some of which are in Angela’s cross; but I have never been to the place since. I told you not this sooner, my son, partly because there seemed no need, partly because, not knowing you as well as I know you now, I thought you might be tempted in like manner as I was and we pray not to be led into temptation. But though I tell you where these precious stones are to be found, I am sure that you will never quit Quipai.”
“I have no great desire to know the whereabout of this diamond mine, father. Tell me or not as you think fit. In any case, I shall be true to my trust and my word. I promise you that I will not leave Quipai till I am forced, and I hope I never may be.”
“All the same, my son, it is the part of a wise man to provide for even unlikely contingencies. Remember, it is the unexpected that happens, and I would not have you and our dear Angela cast on the world penniless. For her, bred as she has been, it would be a frightful misfortune; and up yonder are diamonds which would make you rich beyond the dreams of avarice. Promise me that you will go thither, and bring away as many as you can conveniently carry about your persons in the event of your being compelled to quit the oasis at short notice.”
“I promise. Nevertheless, I see no probability—”
“We are discussing possibilities not probabilities, my son. And during the last few days I have had forebodings, if I were superstitious I should say prophetic visions, else had I not broached the subject. Regard it, if you like, as an old man’s whim—and keep a look-out on the sea.”
“Why particularly on the sea?”
“It is the quarter whence danger is most to be apprehended. If some Spanish war-ship were to sight the oasis and send a boat ashore, either out of idle curiosity or for other reasons, a report would be made to the captain-general, or to whomsoever is now in authority at Lima, and there would come a horde of government functionaries, who would take possession of everything, and you would have to go. But take your pen and note down the particulars that will enable you to find the diamond mine.”
Though Angela and I listened to the abbé’s warnings with all respect, they made little impression on our minds. We regarded them as the vagaries of an old man, whose mind was affected by the feebleness of his body, and a few weeks later he breathed his last. His death came in the natural order of things, and, as he had outlived his strength, it was for him a happy release; yet, as we had loved him much, we sorrowed for him deeply, and I still honor his memory. Take him all in all, Abbé Balthazar was the best man I have ever known.
Shortly after we laid him in the ground I made a visit to the diamond ground, the situation of which the abbé had so fully described that I found it without difficulty. But the undertaking, besides proving much more arduous than I had anticipated, came near to costing me my life. I took with me an arriero and three mules, one carrying an ample supply of food, and, as I thought, of water, for the abbé had told me that a mountain-stream ran through the valley where I was to look for the diamonds. As ill-luck would have it, however, the stream was dried up. Had it not been that I did not like to return empty-handed I should have returned at once, for our stock of water was exhausted and we were two days’ journey from Quipai.
I spent a whole day seeking among the stones and pebbles, and my search was so far successful that I picked up two score diamonds, some of considerable size. If I could have stayed longer I might have made a still richer harvest; and I had an idea that there were more under than above ground. But I had stayed too long as it was. The mules were already suffering for want of water; all three perished before we reached Quipai, and the arriero and myself got home only just alive.