I must admit that I use this flippant tone with a twinge of sorrow, for I think I perceived certain spasms of conscience during our interview, which proved that, among the lees of that withered heart, there were some rich drops of manhood ready to mantle his cheek with shame at our surroundings. Indeed, as he disclosed his story, he exhibited several outbursts of passionate agony which satisfied me that if Don Rafael were in Paris, Don Rafael would have been a most respectable _bourgeois_; while, doubtless, there were many estimable citizens at that moment in Paris, who would have given up their shops in order to become Don Rafaels in Cuba! Such is life--and "circumstances!" Our chat wasted a large portion of the afternoon. It was terminated by a counsel from my friend to be wary in my deportment, and a direction to console myself with the idea that he did not mean I should tarry long upon the island. "You see," said he, "that I do not lack force of eye, voice, and personal influence over these ruffians; yet I do not know that I can always serve or save a friend, so your fate hangs very much on your circumspection. Men in our situation are Ishmaelites. Our hands are not only against all, and all against us, but we do not know the minute when we may be all against each other. The power of habitual control may do much for a leader among such men; but such an one must neither quail nor _deceive_. Therefore, _beware_! Let none of your actions mar my projects. Let them never suspect the truth of our consanguinity. Call me 'uncle;' and in my mouth you shall always be 'Theodore.' Ask no questions; be civil, cheerful, and serviceable about the _rancho_; never establish an intimacy, confidence, or friendship with any _one_ of the band; stifle your feelings and your tears if you ever find them rising to your lips or eyes; talk as little as you possibly can; avoid that smooth-tongued Frenchman; keep away from our revels, and refrain entirely from wine. "I charge you to be specially watchful of Gallego, the cook. He is our man of dirty work,--a shameless coward, though revengeful as a cat. If it shall ever happen that you come in collision with him, _strike first and well_; no one cares for him; even his death will make no stir. Take this _cuchillo_,--it is sharp and reliable; keep it near you day and night; and, _in self-defence_, do not hesitate to make good use of it. In a few days, I may say more to you; until then,--_corragio figlio, e addio!_" We returned to the _rancho_ by different paths. CHAPTER V.