All of a sudden he turned abruptly, and rushed towards the unknown.
The latter had mounted, and was on the point of retiring.
"What is it you want with me?" replied the unknown once more. Then he added fiercely, "Let me begone; and thank God that our unforeseen meeting in this forest has not been productive of graver consequences to you."
The menace contained in these enigmatical words disturbed the stranger in spite of himself. However, he would not be discouraged.
"It is impossible," he resumed vehemently, "that you can be as cruel as you wish us to believe. You are too young for all feeling to have died out of your heart."
"I implore you, in the name of your mother, not to abandon us!"
"Then I beseech you in the name of the being you love most upon earth, whoever that may be."
"No one?" repeated the stranger, shuddering; "Then I pity you, for you must be most unhappy."
The unknown trembled; a feverish glow stole over his face; but soon recovering himself, he exclaimed:
"Who I am! Have I not already told you? A wild beast; a being with only the semblance of humanity, with a hatred towards all men which nothing can ever appease. Pray to God you may never again encounter me on your path. I am like the raven--the sight of me foretells evil. Adieu!"
"Adieu!" murmured the stranger; "And may God have mercy on you, and not visit your cruelty upon you!"
Just at this moment a voice, feeble, but in its sad modulations sweet and melodious as the notes of the _centzontle_, the American nightingale, rose through the stillness.
"My father, my dear father!" it uttered. "Where are you? Do not abandon me."
"I am here, I am here," exclaimed the stranger tenderly, as he turned quickly to run to her who thus called him.
A cloud passed over the face of the unknown at the sound of these melodious accents; his blue eye flashed like the lightning. He placed his hand on his heart, trembling as if he had received an electric shock.
After a short hesitation, he forced his horse to make a sudden bound forward, and placing his hand on the stranger's shoulder:
"Whose voice is that?" he asked in singular accents.
"The voice of my daughter, who is dying, and calls me."
"Dying?" stammered the unknown, strangely moved. "She!"