"Would you be angry with me had I done so?"
"On the contrary, I should be most grateful to you."
"That you accept the hundred thousand piastres."
"I am delighted to find that you are the man I judged you to be. Still, while thanking you from my heart for the service you wish to render me, I do not accept it."
"Do you refuse, Valentine?" he said mournfully.
"Let us understand each other, my friend. I do not refuse; I simply tell you that I do not want the money, and here is the proof," he added, as he took from his pocket a folded paper, which, he handed to his countryman, "you, as a banker, may know the firm of Thornwood, Davison, and Co."
"An unlimited credit opened at my house," he exclaimed in a voice tremulous with joy.
"Does that displease you?" Valentine asked with a smile.
"On the contrary; but you must be rich in that case."
A cloud of sadness passed over the hunter's forehead.
"Alas! as you know, there are certain wounds which never close. Yes, my friend, I am rich; Curumilla, Belhumeur, and myself alone, now that my foster-mother is dead, know in Apacheria the richest placer that exists in the world. It was for the purpose of going to this placer that I did not accompany you to Mexico; now you understand; but what do I care for this incalculable fortune, when my heart is dead, and the joy of my life is for ever annihilated!"
And under the weight of the deep emotion that crushed him, the hunter hung his head down and stifled a sob. Curumilla arose amid the general silence, for no one ventured to offer ordinary consolation for this grief, and laid his hand on Valentine's shoulder--
"Koutonepi," he said to him in a hollow voice, "remember that you have sworn to avenge our brother."
The hunter drew himself up as if stung by a serpent, and pressing the hand the Indian offered him, he looked at him for a moment with strange fixedness.
"Women alone weep for the dead, because they are unable to avenge them," the Indian continued in the same harsh, cutting accent.
"Yes, you are right," the hunter answered with feverish energy; "I thank you, chief, for having recalled me to myself."
Curumilla laid his friend's hand on his heart, and stood for an instant motionless; at length he let it fall, sat down again, and wrapping himself in his zarapé, he returned to his habitual silence, from which so grave a circumstance alone could have aroused him. Valentine passed his hand twice over his forehead, which was bathed in cold perspiration, and attempted a faint smile.