"Well, adieu, Don Ramón," he said in an indulgent voice; "be prudent, this young man may still reform; he is hot blooded, that is all." "Adieu, Don Inigo Albaceyte," the hacendero replied, in so dry a tone that it admitted of no reply. The judge shook his head, and clapping spurs to his horse, he set off at full trot, followed by his escort, after having made the farmer a farewell gesture. The latter looked after him, as long as he could see him, and then re-entered the house with long and hasty strides. "Nô Eusebio," he said to the mayoral, "ring the bell to call together all the peons, as well as the other servants of the hacienda." The mayoral, after having looked at his master with astonishment, hastened to execute the order he had received. "What does all this mean?" he said to himself. At the sound of the bell, the men employed on the farm ran to answer it in haste, not knowing to what cause they should attribute this extraordinary summons. They were soon all collected together in the great hall, which served as a refectory. The completest silence reigned among them. A secret pang pressed on their hearts,--they had the presentiment of a terrible event. After a few minutes of expectation, Doña Jesuita entered, surrounded by her children, with the exception of Rafaël, and proceeded to take her place upon a platform, prepared at one end of the hall. Her countenance was pale, and her eyes proclaimed that she had been weeping. Don Ramón appeared. He was clothed in a complete suit of black velvet without lace; a heavy gold chain hung round his neck, a broad leafed hat of black felt, ornamented with an eagle's feather, covered his head, a long sword, with a hilt of polished steel, hung by his side. His brow was marked with wrinkles, his eyebrows were closely knitted above his black eyes, which appeared to dart lightning. A shudder of terror pervaded the ranks of the assembly--Don Ramón Garillas had put on the robe of justice. Justice was then about to be done? But upon whom? When Don Ramón had taken his place on the right hand of his wife, he made a sign. The mayoral went out, and returned a minute after, followed by Rafaël. The young man was bareheaded, and had his hands tied behind his back. With his eyes cast down, and a pale face, he placed himself before his father, whom he saluted respectfully. At the period at which our history passes, in those countries remote from towns and exposed to the continual incursions of the Indians, the heads of families preserved, in all its purity, that patriarchal authority which the efforts of our depraved civilization have a tendency to lessen, and, at length, to destroy. A father was sovereign in his own house, his judgments were without appeal, and executed without murmurs or resistance.