On the morrow my host my hosts would not hear of my leaving them; and I must confess that I did not very strongly insist upon continuing my journey. Not only was I charmed with the friendly welcome I had received, but still further, a secret curiosity urged me to stay a few days longer. A week thus passed away. Don Rafaël and his family overwhelmed me with kindnesses; life passed with me as if in a continual enchantment. I do not know why, but ever since my arrival in the hacienda, all that I was witness of augmented that curiosity which had seized upon me from the first moment. It appeared to me that at the bottom of the happiness which I saw beaming in every face of this united family, there had been a long train of misfortunes. They were not, as I believed, people whose lives had flowed on calmly and tranquilly; I imagined, though I scarcely know why, that after being a long time tossed about upon the ocean of some trouble, they had at length found a port. Their countenances were impressed with that majesty which great sorrows alone can give, and the wrinkles which furrowed their brows appeared to me too deep to have been traced by anything but grief. This idea was so strongly impressed upon my brain that, in spite of all my efforts to drive it away, it incessantly returned, more tenaciously and more incisively. In a few days, I had become the friend of the family nothing regarding myself was unknown to them; they had admitted me to the closest intimacy. In this state, I had constantly one question on my lips, but I knew not how to shape it, so much did I fear committing a serious indiscretion or reviving old causes of grief. One evening, as Don Rafaël and I were returning from hunting, when we were within a few steps of the house, he placed his arm in mine. "What is the matter with you, Don Gustavio?" he said; "you are dull and preoccupied; do you begin to be tired of us?" "You cannot imagine that," I replied warmly; "on the contrary, I have no words to express how happy I am with you." "Well, remain then," he cried frankly; "there is still plenty of room for a friend at our hearth." "Thanks," I said, much affected, and pressing his hand; "I would that it could be so; but, alas! it is impossible. Like the Jew of the legend, I have within me a demon which, incessantly cries 'Move on!' I must accomplish my destiny." And I sighed. "Now, come," he resumed, "be frank! tell me what it is that occupies your thoughts; for several days past you have made us all very uncomfortable; nobody has dared to question you about it," he added, with a smile; "but I have taken my courage with both hands, as you Frenchmen say, and made up my mind to ask you." "Well!" I replied, "as you desire it, I will tell you; but I entreat you not to take my frankness ill, and to be assured that there is at least as much interest as curiosity in the matter."