e you?" said he to him.

"The Indian, Martin Paz. I am pursued by soldiers for having defended
myself against a mestizo who attacked me, and levelled him to the ground
with a blow from my poignard. This mestizo is the betrothed of a young
girl whom I love. Now, senor, you can deliver me to my enemies, if you
judge it noble and right."

"Sir," replied the Spaniard, gravely, "I depart to-morrow for the Baths
of Chorillos; if you please to accompany me, you will be for the present
safe from pursuit, and will never have reason to complain of the
hospitality of the Marquis Don Vegal."

Martin Paz bent coldly without manifesting any emotion.

"You can rest until morning on this bed," resumed Don Vegal; "no one
here will suspect your retreat. Good-night, senor!"

The Spaniard went out of the room, and left the Indian, moved to tears
by a confidence so generous; he yielded himself entirely to the
protection of the marquis, and without thinking that his slumbers might
be taken advantage of to seize him, slept with peaceful security.

The next day, at sunrise, the marquis gave the last orders for his
departure, and summoned the Jew Samuel to come to him; in the meantime
he attended the morning mass.

This was a custom generally observed by the aristocracy. From its very
foundation Lima had been essentially Catholic. Besides its numerous
churches, it numbered twenty-two convents, seventeen monasteries, and
four _beaterios_, or houses of retreat for females who did not take the
vows. Each of these establishments possessed a chapel, so that there
were at Lima more than a hundred edifices for worship, where eight
hundred secular or regular priests, three hundred _religieuses_,
lay-brothers and sisters, performed the duties of religion.

As Don Vegal entered the church of Santa Anna, he noticed a young girl
kneeling in prayer and in tears. There was so much of grief in her
depression, that the marquis could not look at her without emotion; and
he was preparing to console her by some kind words, when Father Joachim
de Camarones approached him, saying in a low voice:

"Senor Don Vegal, pray do not approach her."

Then he made a sign to Sarah, who followed him to an obscure and
deserted chapel.

Don Vegal directed his steps to the altar and listened to the mass;
then, as he was returning, he thought involuntarily of the deep sadness
of the kneeling maiden. Her image followed him to his hotel, and
remained deeply engraven in