"Yes, yes," he said, in a sorrowful voice, "you profess an implacable hatred for my unhappy country, and for that reason are called the Exterminator." "Whatever be the feelings I profess for your countrymen and the name it has pleased them to give me, it is not, I suppose, to discuss this point with me that you have come here at a serious risk, and requested me to meet you." "Indeed, it was not for that motive, you are right, my son, though, personally, I might have a good deal to say on that subject." "I would observe, father, that the hour is advancing--I have but little time at your service, and if you do not hasten to explain yourself, I shall be, to my great regret, constrained to leave you." "You would regret it for your whole life, brother, were it as long as a patriarch's." "That is possible, though I greatly doubt it. I can only receive bad news from Spain." "Perhaps so; in any case, these are the news of which I am the bearer." "I am listening to you." "I am, as my gown shows you, a monk of the order of San Francisco de Asís." "At least, you have the look of one," the adventurer remarked, with an ironical smile. "Do you doubt it?" "Why not? Would you be the first Spaniard who was not afraid to profane a sacred dress, in order to spy our movements the more easily?" "Unfortunately what you say is true, and it has happened only too often; but I am merely a monk." "I believe you, till I have proof of the contrary; so go on." "Very good. I am the spiritual director of several ladies of quality in the island of Hispaniola: one among them, young and beautiful, who only arrived in the West Indies a short time ago with her husband, appears to be devoured by an incurable grief." "Indeed! And what can I do to prevent it, father?" "I know not: still, this is what took place between this lady and myself. The lady, who, as I told you, is young and fair, and whose charity and goodness are inexhaustible, spends the greater part of her days in her oratory, kneeling before a picture representing our Lady of Mercy, imploring her with tears and sobs. Interested, in spite of myself, by this so true and so profound grief, I have on several occasions employed the right which my sacred office gives me, to try and penetrate into this ulcerated heart, and obtain from my penitent a confession, which would permit me to give her some consolation." "And I presume that you have not succeeded, father?" "Alas! No, I have not." "Allow me to repeat to you, that, up to the present I do not see in this very sad story, which is to some extent, however, that of most women, anything very interesting to me." "Wait, brother, I am coming to that." "In that case, proceed."