"Thou hast but little worldly knowledge," said the Captain-General, half smiling, "or thou wouldst know, that revenge is of a reptile's nature, crawling rather in secret among dark thickets than openly over sunny plains, and none the less venomous, that it can lie half a year torpid. Neither put thou much trust in innocent looks; which, to a shrewd eye, are like sea-water,--the smoother they lie, the deeper can they be looked into." Having pronounced these metaphorical maxims with much gravity, his eye all the time bent on the youth, Cortes paused for a moment, as if for a reply; when, receiving none, for, in truth, Juan, not well comprehending them, knew not what to answer, he continued, "Let us understand one another. There has been strife between us,--strife and ill-will. I have perhaps done you injustice: I thought I had cause. By my conscience, young man, I once loved you very well--I have been sorry for you." "I have deserved your displeasure," said Juan, hurriedly, moved by the earnestness with which the general spoke; "but, I hope, not beyond forgiveness." "Surely not, surely not," said Cortes; "but what I may forget as thy friend, I am still bound to consider as thy general. I am now the king's officer, and it becomes me, forgetting all private feelings, to know no friends but those who approve themselves true and valuable servants of his majesty. In this character, I must remember some of thy past acts with disfavour; but in both, it is not improper I should desire thou shouldst have opportunity fully to retrieve thy good name, and, in spite of envy and detraction, to deserve such friendship as I have shown thee in former years." The exile pondered a moment over the words of the general, in more indecision than before. They spoke of friendship and kindness, and seemed to offer an apology for severity that was rather official than personal; and yet, in this apology, was a degree of reproach, of which it appeared Cortes's resolution to keep him always sensible. Nevertheless, this very tone of complaint served to soothe the little exasperation of feelings which had remained in Juan's breast, while smarting under a sense of wrong and injustice. Anger both irritates and hardens the heart; reproach softens, while it distresses. It seemed obvious to Juan, that Cortes, while apprizing him that a full reconciliation had not yet taken place, was willing, nay anxious, that it should. He answered therefore with the greatest fervour, "If your excellency will but show me in what manner I may regain your favour--at least your belief that I have not wantonly rejected it--I call heaven to witness, I will remember it as such an act of kindness as that which _this_ must ever keep me in memory of." As he spoke, he touched with his finger a rapier-scar on his right breast, which the narrowness and peculiar fashion of his mantle scarcely enabled him to conceal, even when so disposed.