Plunged in his reflections, Martin Paz hastened his steps to see the _saya_ of the young girl sweep the threshold of the paternal dwelling; and Sarah herself, half-opening then her mantilla, cast on him a bewildering glance of gratitude. He was quickly joined by two Indians of the species of _zambos_, pillagers and robbers, who walked beside him. "Martin Paz," said one of them to him, "you ought this very evening to meet our brethren in the mountains." "I shall be there," coldly replied the other. "The schooner _Annonciation_ has appeared in sight from Callao, tacked for a few moments, then, protected by the point, rapidly disappeared. She will undoubtedly approach the land near the mouth of the Rimac, and our bark canoes must be there to relieve her of her merchandise. We shall need your presence." "You are losing time by your observations. Martin Paz knows his duty and he will do it." "It is in the name of the Sambo that we speak to you here." "It is in my own name that I speak to you." "Do you not fear that he will find your presence in the suburb of San Lazaro at this hour unaccountable?" "I am where my fancy and my will have brought me." "Before the house of the Jew?" "Those of my brethren who are disposed to find fault can meet me to-night in the mountain." The eyes of the three men sparkled, and this was all. The _zambos_ regained the bank of the Rimac, and the sound of their footsteps died away in the darkness. Martin Paz had hastily approached the house of the Jew. This house, like all those of Lima, had but two stories; the ground floor, built of bricks, was surmounted with walls formed of canes tied together and covered with plaster; all this part of the building, constructed to resist earthquakes, imitated, by a skillful painting, the bricks of the lower story; the square roof, called _asoetas_, was covered with flowers, and formed a terrace full of perfumes and pretty points of view. A vast gate, placed between two pavilions, gave access to a court; but as usual, these pavilions had no window opening upon the street. The clock of the parish church was striking eleven when Martin Paz stopped before the dwelling of Sarah. Profound silence reigned around; a flickering light within proved that the saloon of the Jew Samuel was still occupied. Why does the Indian stand motionless before these silent walls? The cool atmosphere woos him with its transparency and its perfumes; the radiant stars send down upon the sleeping earth rays of diaphanous mildness; the white constellations illumine the darkness with their enchanting light; his heart believes in those sympathetic communications which brave time and distance.