"Well, then," he said, with an indulgent smile, "confess yourself to me; don't be afraid, I will give you absolution--go on!" "I really should like to make 'a clean breast of it,' and tell you everything." "That is the way,--speak." "I have formed an idea, although I do not know why, that you have not always been as happy as you are now, and that it has been by long misfortunes that you have purchased the blessings you at present enjoy." A melancholy smile passed over his lips. "Pardon me!" I cried eagerly; "pardon the indiscretion I have committed! What I feared has come to pass! Let there be no more question between us, I conjure you, of my silly fancy!" I was really very much hurt at reflecting on my impertinence. Don Rafaël replied to me with kindness. "Why not?" he said; "I see nothing indiscreet in your question; it arises solely from the interest you have conceived for us: it is only when we love people that we become so clear-sighted. No, my friend, you are not wrong, we have all undergone a rude trial. Since you desire it, you shall know all; and perhaps you will confess, after having heard the recital of what we have suffered, that we have indeed purchased dearly the happiness we enjoy. But let us go in; they are probably waiting for us to sit down to table." That evening Don Rafaël retained several members of the family round him, and, after having ordered cigarettes and some wine to be placed upon the table, he said,-- "My friend, I am about to satisfy your excusable curiosity. Belhumeur, Black Elk, and Eagle Head, my father and mother, as well as my dear wife, who have all been actors in the drama of which you are going to hear the strange recital, will come to my assistance if my memory fails me." Then, reader, Don Rafaël related to me what you have just read. I must confess that these adventures, told by the man who had played the principal character, and before those who had so great a share in them,--I confess, I say, that these adventures interested me to the highest degree, which cannot be expected to be the case with you; they, necessarily, lose much coming from my mouth, for I cannot impart to them that animation which constituted their principal charm. A week afterwards I left my amiable hosts, but instead of embarking at Guaymas, as I had at first intended, I set out with Eagle Head on an excursion into Apacheria, an excursion during which chance made me the witness of extraordinary scenes, which I will, perhaps, relate to you some day, if these you have now read have not been too wearisome to you. THE END. End of Project Gutenberg's The Trappers of Arkansas, by Gustave Aimard