"On any condition you like," cried Theophilo, beside himself with joy. "If it's a hundred per cent, I don't mind. I'll work like a slave to pay back every vintem and still I shall be your Excellency's debtor." "I ask harder terms than a hundred per cent," explained the monk quietly. "My condition is this. Pledge me your word that if your father's money does not come in time to settle my own debt in Villa Branca you will never reproach yourself on my account. Promise that you will believe me when I say that, although I shall be happier to-morrow night with your father's conto of reis, I shall not be miserable without it. Promise to believe that, if your father fails us, I shall have no grievance against him or against Luis or against you." Theophilo could only stand stock still, staring and breathing hard. The clock struck half-past two. "Quick!" urged Antonio. "There's no time to lose. See, here is the conto of reis. Pledge me your word that you will obey my condition, and the money is yours." "Your Worship cannot mean this," broke in Luis. He had leaned against Antonio expecting to find him a broken reed, and he could hardly believe that this oak-like sturdiness was not a delusion. "I mean every word," Antonio answered. "Come, take the money. I trust you to remember the terms." He drew a few notes from the pocket-book and pressed all the rest into Theophilo's hand. The young builder clutched them eagerly; but a moment later he sought to thrust them back. "No," he groaned, "I cannot, I must not. My father will fail me and you will curse us!" "Come," answered Antonio gently, "I will tell you a secret. I have a Friend. While you sat by this fountain I went and asked His advice. I have asked it many and many a time, and He has never misled me yet. He told me to lend you this conto of reis. If the post does not bring a conto in its place, do not grieve. It is between my Friend and me. Go." They looked at him wonderingly; but he hastened away. From the far side of the garden he saw them stand a whole minute irresolute. Then Luis seized Theophilo's arm and they walked off quickly into the town. As for Antonio, he returned to the church of Santa Cruz, and there, in a corner, he began to say his Office. He recited it without rapture, but with a quietness of mind which was better than ecstasy. Towards four o'clock two men entered the nave and knelt before the brazen grille. They did not discover Antonio; but, from his obscure corner, he could see their faces as they rose from their knees, and he knew that they had guessed Who was his Friend. VI The post arrived at six o'clock; but it brought no letter from Theophilo's father. Luis, with a pale face came to the hospedaria after dinner and broke the news falteringly. Glancing through the window, Antonio saw Theophilo pacing up and down outside. The monk put on his hat and walked into the street. "Senhor, this is terrible," moaned Theophilo. "There is nothing."