The two worthies, on being interrupted in their pagan ceremony by the shower of pebbles, had given up the performance; and were now threading their way through the thicket to reach the road beyond it. The Indian was venting his wrath against the unknown personage who had intruded upon their sacred devotions, and who had very probably hindered the Siren of the dishevelled hair from showing herself. The negro appeared to be equally indignant; but his anger was probably only pretended. "Is it only at the first appearance of a new moon that the Siren shows herself?" inquired Clara, as if the opportunity for seeing her had escaped them. "Of course," replied Costal, "only then; but if there is a profane person in the neighbourhood--and by profane I mean a _white_--the spirit will not appear." "Perhaps she is afraid of the Inquisition?" naively suggested the negro. "Bah! Clara, you're a ninny! Why the devil should you suppose that the powerful divinity of the waters has any fear of long-robed monks? It is they, more likely, who would have cause to tremble in her presence, and prostrate themselves before her." "_Carrambo_! if she's afraid to show herself before one white man, more reason why she should fear a whole host of monks--who, it must be confessed, are ugly enough to frighten anything." "May the devil drown the man who interrupted us!" cried Costal, rendered the more indignant by the justice of the negro's reasoning. "A few minutes more, and I am certain the Siren would have showed herself." "Why did you extinguish the fire so soon? I think, friend Costal, you did wrong in that," remonstrated Clara. "I did it to hide from the eyes of the profane white man the mystery about to be accomplished. Besides, I knew after what happened there was no chance of her appearing." "So you really think it was some one who disturbed us?" "I am sure of it." "And is that how you account for the shower of stones?" "Of course." "By my faith, then," said the negro in a serious tone, "I differ with you in opinion about that." "You do? And what is your opinion about it?" inquired Costal, stopping and turning his eyes upon his companion. "I would stake my life upon it," replied the negro, still speaking seriously, "that while you were dancing around the rock, I saw the Siren." "Saw the Siren?" "Yes. Just where we had been--up by the _ahuehuetes_--I saw by the blaze of our fire a face, surrounded by a diadem of shining gold. What could that have been but the Siren?" "You must have been mistaken, friend Clara." "I was not mistaken. I saw what I tell you, and I shouldn't a bit wonder that what we took for pebbles were neither more nor less than a shower of _pepitas_ (nuggets) of gold, which the spirit had thrown down to us." "_Carajo_! why did you allow us to leave the place without telling me of this?"