"I will try impossibilities to succeed, brother," the monk replied; "I will pray to Heaven to permit me to persuade my penitent." "Yes," Montbarts added, in a gloomy voice, "it would be better for her and for me, perhaps, if we never met again." And roughly turning his back on the monk, he hurried along the track, where he speedily disappeared. When Fray Arsenio felt certain that this time the adventurer had really gone, he gently raised the curtain of the tent and stepped inside. A woman was kneeling there on the bare ground, with her head buried in her hands, and praying with stifled sobs. "Have I punctually accomplished your orders, my daughter?" the monk said. The woman drew herself up and turned her lovely pale and tear-swollen face toward the monk. "Yes, padre," she murmured, in a low and trembling voice. "Bless you for not abandoning me in my distress." "Is this really the man with whom you desire an interview?" "Yes, it is he, father." "And you still insist on seeing him?" She hesitated for a moment, a shudder ran over her whole person, and then she murmured in a hardly intelligible voice-- "I must, father." "You will reflect between this and then, I hope," he continued. "No, no," she said, with a sorrowful shake of the head; "if that man were to plunge his dagger into my heart, I must have a final explanation with him." "Your will be done," he said At this moment, a slight sound was heard outside. The monk went out, but returned almost immediately. "Get ready, madam," he said; "our crew have come to fetch you. Remember the parting advice that _ladrón_ gave me, and let us be gone as soon as possible." Without replying, the lady rose, wrapped herself carefully in her mantilla, and went out. An hour later, she left Nevis, accompanied by Fray Arsenio Mendoza. Montbarts had reached St. Kitts long before. CHAPTER XIX. THE EXPEDITION. During the entire passage from Nevis to St. Kitts Montbarts was in a strange state of excitement. The interview he had held with the monk had rearoused in his heart a profound sorrow which time had deadened but not cauterized, and at the first word that fell in this hour's conversation the wound burst open again, bleeding and livid as on the day of its receipt. How had this woman, whom he would not name, of whose presence in America he was ignorant, whom, in short, he fancied he had escaped by hiding himself among the filibusters, succeeded in so short a time, not only in learning his presence in the islands, but also in finding him again? For what object did she insist on finding him? What interest could she have in seeing him? All these questions, which he asked himself in turn, necessarily remained unanswered, and for that very reason augmented his anxiety.