"Do not believe that," Don Aníbal exclaimed warmly; "friendship has its undeniable rights, and if fate has cast us into two opposite parties, we ought only to esteem each other the more for having followed our convictions." "Unfortunately, Don Aníbal, but few friendships resist political hatreds. However great the affection may be we feel for a man, however powerful the sympathy we may have with him, when a community of thought no longer exists, when everything separates you, indifference inevitably succeeds friendship, and, as you know, from indifference to hatred is only a step." "Which, I trust, you have not yet taken, my dear count, for our friendship is one of those which nothing can weaken, as it rests on too solid a basis--an oath of vengeance which we took together--and which we have as yet been unable to accomplish, in spite of all our efforts." The count's brow was contracted by a painful thought. "Yes," he murmured, "you are right, Don Aníbal; there is a vengeance we have sworn to take. Oh, whatever may happen, I will keep my oath." "Perhaps," the hacendero continued, "the hour is nearer at hand than you suppose." "Is that the truth, Don Aníbal?" he exclaimed, suddenly starting up. "Shall we at length reach the object for which we have so long been striving?" "I hope so, Señor Conde; as I am more at liberty than you, and better situated to obtain information, I believe that I am at last on the track." "Speak, speak! What do you know, my friend?" "Speaking today would perhaps be imprudent. I do not wish to leave anything to chance; give me a few more days, and then--" "But," the count interrupted him passionately, "the insult I have to avenge is more serious than yours; my murdered brother, my boy carried off, perhaps killed, whose blood is incessantly crying out after their cowardly and barbarous murderers." "And I have my wife, my well-beloved wife, who was rendered mad by terror, and my daughter, who escaped by a miracle from the frightful sting of a snake. Oh, believe me, count, I suffer as much as you, for all my happiness has been for ever destroyed." There was a moment of painful silence. The two gentlemen, lying back in their butacas, with their heads buried in their hands, remained plunged in gloomy and sorrowful thoughts. At length the hacendero spoke. "Still," he said, "on reflection, I think that it will be better both for you and me to come to a thorough understanding about the steps we mean to take, and arrange so that failure cannot be possible. But the conversation will be a long one; I have much information to impart to you, and so, my dear count, whether you like it or not, you must defer your departure till tomorrow, and consent to pass the night beneath my roof." "I am in a very exceptional position here, Don Aníbal. The persons assembled in the hacienda at this moment have a right to regard me as an enemy, perhaps a spy. I should not like--"