"I am not your brother, monk," the stranger said, mockingly; "I am a heretic, a gringo, as you are pleased to call us; look at me, you have not examined me yet with sufficient attention; have I not horns and goat's feet?" These words were uttered with such a sarcastic accent, that the monk was momentarily confounded. "Who are you, then?" he at length asked, with secret apprehension. "What does that concern you?" the other said, with an ill-omened laugh; "The demon, mayhap." The monk made a sudden effort to rise, and crossed himself repeatedly. "May Heaven save me from falling into the hands of the Evil Spirit!" he added. "Well, you ass," the other said, as he shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, "reassure yourself, I am not the demon, but a man like yourself, perhaps not quite so hypocritical, though, that's the only difference." "Do you speak truly? Are you really one of my fellow men, disposed to serve me?" "Who can answer for the future?" the stranger replied, with an enigmatical smile; "Up to the present, at any rate, you have had no cause of complaint against me. "No, oh no, I do not think so, although since my fainting fit my ideas have been quite confused, and I can remember nothing." "What do I care? That does not concern me, for I ask nothing of you; I have enough business of my own not to trouble myself with that of others. Come, do you feel better? Have you recovered sufficiently to continue your journey?" "What! continue my journey?" the monk asked timidly; "Do you intend to abandon me then?" "Why not? I have already wasted too much time with you, and must attend to my own affairs." "What?" the monk objected, "After the interest you have so benevolently taken in me, you would have the courage to abandon me thus when almost dead, and not caring what may happen to me after your departure?" "Why not? I do not know you, and have no occasion to help you. Accidentally crossing this clearing, I noticed you lying breathless and pale as a corpse. I gave you that ease which is refused to no one in the desert; now that you have returned to life, I can no longer be of service to you, so I am off; what can be more simple or logical? Goodbye, and may the demon, for whom you took me just now, grant you his protection!" After uttering these words in a tone of sarcasm and bitter irony, the stranger threw his rifle over his shoulder, and walked a few paces toward his horse. "Stay, in Heaven's name!" the monk exclaimed, as he rose with greater haste than with his weakness seemed possible, but fear produced the strength; "What will become of me alone in this desert?" "That does not concern me," the stranger answered, as he coolly loosed the arm of his zarapé, which the monk had seized; "is not the maxim of the desert, each for himself?" "Listen," the monk said eagerly; "my name is Fray Antonio, and I am wealthy: if you protect me, I will reward you handsomely." The stranger smiled contemptuously.