Meanwhile their host had himself lit one of the "Emperors," and was smoking away like a chimney. A somewhat comical sight at any time, or in any place, is a monk with a cigar in his mouth. But that the Abbot of the Cerro Ajusco was no anchorite they were already aware, and saw nothing in it to surprise them. Seating himself beside Kearney, with face turned towards the valley, he put the question-- "What do you think of that landscape, Don Florencio?" "Magnificent! I can't recall having looked upon lovelier, or one with greater variety of scenic detail. It has all the elements of the sublime and beautiful." The young Irishman was back in his college classics with his countryman Burke. "Make use of this," said the Abbot, offering a small telescope which he drew out. "'Twill give you a better view of things." Taking the glass and adjusting it to his sight, Kearney commenced making survey of the valley, now bringing one portion of it within the field of telescopic vision, then another. "Can you see the Pedregal?" asked the Abbot. "It's close in to the mountain's foot. You'll recognise it by its sombre grey colour." "Certainly I see it," answered the other, after depressing the telescope. "And the thicket we came through on its further side--quite distinctly." "Look to the right of that, then you'll observe a large house, standing in the middle of the maguey fields. Have you caught it?" "Yes; why do you ask?" "Because that house has an interest for me--a very special one. Whom do you suppose it belongs to; or I should rather say did, and ought to belong to?" "How should I know, holy father?" asked Kearney, thinking it somewhat strange his being so interrogated. "True," responded the Abbot; "how could you, my son? But I'll tell you. That _magueyal_ is mine by right, though by wrong 'tis now the property of our late host, the Governor of the Acordada. His reward at the last confiscation for basely betraying his country and our cause." "What cause?" inquired the young Irishman, laying aside the glass, and showing more interest in what he heard than that he had been looking at. Country and cause! These were not the words likely to be on the lips of either monk or highwayman. And that the man who had spoken to him was neither one nor other he had fuller proof in what was now further said. "A cause, Senor Irlandes, for which I, Ruperto Rivas, am ready to lay down life, if the sacrifice be called for, and so most--I may say all-- of those you've just met at _almuerzo_. You heard it proclaimed in the toast, `Patria y Libertad!'" "Yes. And a grand noble sentiment it is. One I was gratified to hear." "And surprised as well. Is not that so, _amigo_?" "Well, to be frank with you, holy father, I confess to something of the sort."