ntreat their host to "use their ears as those of his
slaves," on which, after fresh apologies, he began:

"Know, then, victorious cavaliers, that I, whom you now see here as a
poor hermit, was formerly one of the foremost of that terrible band who
went with Pizarro to the conquest of Peru. Eighty years old am I this
day, unless the calendar which I have carved upon yonder tree deceives
me; and twenty years old was I when I sailed with that fierce man from
Panama, to do that deed with which all earth, and heaven, and hell
itself, I fear, has rung. How we endured, suffered, and triumphed; how,
mad with success, and glutted with blood, we turned our swords against
each other, I need not tell to you. For what gentleman of Europe knows
not our glory and our shame?"

His hearers bowed assent.

"Yes; you have heard of our prowess: for glorious we were awhile, in
the sight of God and man. But I will not speak of our glory, for it is
tarnished; nor of our wealth, for it was our poison; nor of the sins of
my comrades, for they have expiated them; but of my own sins, senors,
which are more in number than the hairs of my head, and a burden too
great to bear. Miserere Domine!"

And smiting on his breast, the old warrior went on:

"As I said, we were mad with blood; and none more mad than I. Surely it
is no fable that men are possessed, even in this latter age, by devils.
Why else did I rejoice in slaying? Why else was I, the son of a noble
and truthful cavalier of Castile, among the foremost to urge upon
my general the murder of the Inca? Why did I rejoice over his dying
agonies? Why, when Don Ferdinando de Soto returned, and upbraided us
with our villainy, did I, instead of confessing the sin which that noble
cavalier set before us, withstand him to his face, ay, and would have
drawn the sword on him, but that he refused to fight a liar, as he said
that I was?"

"Then Don de Soto was against the murder? So his own grandson told me.
But I had heard of him only as a tyrant and a butcher."

"Senor, he was compact of good and evil, as are other men: he has paid
dearly for his sin; let us hope that he has been paid in turn for his
righteousness."

John Brimblecombe shook his head at this doctrine, but did not speak.

"So you know his grandson? I trust he is a noble cavalier?"

Amyas was silent; the old gentleman saw that he had touched some sore
point, and continued:

"And why, again, senors, did I after that day give mysel