The adventurers, who had almost completed their meal before his arrival, left off eating long before him; they gave their dogs the food they had been expecting with so much impatience, then lit their pipes, and began smoking, paying no further attention to their guest beyond handing him the things he required. At length the stranger wiped his mouth, and, in order to prove to his hosts that he was quite as much at his ease as they, he produced a leaf of paper and tobacco, delicately rolled a cigarette, lit it, and smoked apparently as calmly as themselves. "I thank you for your generous hospitality, señores," he said, presently, understanding that along silence might be interpreted to his disadvantage, "I had a great necessity to recruit my strength, for I have been fasting since the morning." "That is very imprudent, señor," Lepoletais answered, "to embark thus without any biscuit, as we sailors say; the savannah is somewhat like the sea, you know when you start on it, but you never know when you will leave it again." "What you say is perfectly true, señor; had it not been for you, I am afraid I should have passed a very bad night." "Pray say no more about that, señor; we have only done for you what we should wish to be done for us under similar circumstances. Hospitality is a sacred duty, which no one has a right to avoid: besides, you are a palpable proof of it." "How so?" "Why, you are a Spaniard, if I am not mistaken, while we, on the contrary, are French. Well, we forget for the moment our hatred of your nation, to welcome you at our fireside, as every guest sent by Heaven has the right to be received." "That is true, señor, and I thank you doubly, be assured." "Good Heavens!" the buccaneer replied, "I assure you that you act wrongly in dwelling so much on this subject. What we are doing at this moment is as much for you as in behalf of our honour, hence I beg you, señor, not to say any more about it, for it is really not worth the trouble." "Bless me, señor," L'Olonnais said with a laugh, "why, we are old acquaintances, though you little suspect it, I fancy." "Old acquaintances!" the stranger exclaimed, in surprise; "I do not understand you, señor." "And yet what I am saying is very clear." "If you would deign to explain," the stranger replied, completely thrown on his beam ends, as Lepoletais would have said, "perhaps I shall understand, which, I assure you, will cause me great pleasure." "I wish for nothing better than to explain myself, señor," L'Olonnais said, with a bantering air; "and in the first place, permit me to observe, that, though your cloak is so carefully buttoned, it is not sufficiently so to conceal the Franciscan garb you wear under it." "I am indeed a monk of that order," the stranger answered, rather disconcerted; "but that does not prove that you know me." "Granted, but I am certain that I shall bring back your recollection by a single word."