"Am I not? You care little whether Texas be free or in slavery?" "I admit it." "You have, then, a reason for acting as you are now doing?" "A man always has a reason." "Very good; well, I wish to know that reason." "And suppose I refuse to tell it to you?" "I shall not accept your proposition." "You will be wrong." "That is possible." "Reflect." "I have reflected." There was a moment's silence, which the old man interrupted-- "You are a suspicious and headstrong boy," he said to him, "who, through a false feeling of honour, risk losing an opportunity which you will probably never find again." "I will run the risk; I wish to be frank with you; I only know you from very ill reports; your reputation is execrable, and nothing proves to me that, under the pretext of serving me, you may not be laying a snare for me." The old man's pale face was covered by a sudden flush at these rude words, a nervous tremor agitated all his limbs; but, by a violent effort, he succeeded in mastering the emotion he experienced, and after a few minutes, he replied in a calm voice, in which, however, there remained some traces of the tempest that growled hoarsely in his heart-- "I forgive you," he said; "you had a right to speak to me as you did, and I cannot be angry with you. Time is slipping away, it is nearly one in the morning; it will soon be too late to execute the bold plan I have formed; I will therefore only add one word--reflect before answering me, for on that answer my resolution, depends. The motive that urges me to offer to introduce you to the hacienda is quite personal, and in no way affects or concerns you." "But what guarantee can you offer me on the sincerity of your intentions?" The old man walked a step forward, drew himself up to his full height, stamped with an accent of supreme majesty-- "My word, the word of a man who, whatever may be said about him, has never failed in what he owes himself; I swear to you on my honour, before that God in whose presence you and I will probably soon appear, that my intentions are pure and loyal, without any thought of treachery. Now, answer, what is your resolve?" While uttering these words, the old man's attitude, gestures, and race were imprinted with such nobility and grandeur, that he seemed transfigured. In spite of himself, the Jaguar was affected: he felt himself led away by this accent, which seemed to him to come straight from the heart. "I accept," he said in a firm voice. "I expected it," the old man replied; "in young and generous natures good feelings always find an echo. You will not repent the confidence you give me." "Here is my hand," the young man said passionately; "press it without fear, for it is that of a friend." "Thanks," the old man said, as a burning tear beaded on his eyelashes; "that word repays me for much suffering and sorrow." "Now, explain your plan to me."