"Well, comrades--the story is, that about five hundred years ago, one of the unfortunate victims was about to be sacrificed in this manner as usual. The cruel priest had opened his breast and taken out the heart; when, to the astonishment of all around, the Indian seized hold of his own heart, and endeavoured to put it back in its place. His hand, however, trembled, and the heart slipping from his grasp, rolled down the mountain side and into the lake. The Indian, uttering a terrible howl, plunged in after for the purpose of recovering his heart from the water, and was never seen again. Of course, a man like that could not possibly die; and for five hundred years the Indian has been wandering round the shores of the lake searching for his heart, and with his breast cut open, just as the priest had left it. It's not more than a year ago that some one saw this Indian, and just about here, too, on the southern shore of the lake." As Zefirino finished his narration, his two companions involuntarily cast glances of terror towards the gloomy waters of the lake, as if in dread that the legendary Indian might suddenly show himself. Just at that moment, a rustling among the leaves caused all three of them to start to their feet, and stand trembling with fear. Their alarm did not last long; for almost immediately after they perceived that the noise had been caused by Castrillo, the guide--who, in the next moment, stepped forward into the glade. "Well, Castrillo! what have you seen?" demanded his fellow-servants. "Enough to make it necessary that I should at once communicate with our master," and Castrillo passed on towards the _litera_, leaving his companions to form their conjectures about what he had seen as best they might. CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE. THE INVALID. On perceiving the approach of the domestico, Don Mariano silently closed the curtains of the _litera_, in order that the slumbers of Gertrudis might not be disturbed. "Speak softly!" said he to the man, "my daughter is asleep." The domestic delivered his report in an undertone. "I have been almost as far as the hacienda of San Carlos," said he. "The road to the house is clear; and I should have gone up to it, but for the strange sights which I saw there." "Strange sight! what sights, Castrillo?" "Oh, master! I can hardly tell you what I saw--at least I cannot explain it. The windows were all lit up, but with such lights! They were blue and red, and of a purple colour, and they appeared to be changing every instant, and moving about in the most mysterious manner. While I stood looking at them, and trying to think what it could mean, I saw a figure in white gliding past me in the darkness, like some one not of this world." "My worthy Castrillo, fear was troubling your senses, I am afraid you only fancied these things?"