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Updated: June 10, 2025
But how, should I not have obeyed your words?" Don Vegal knew not what to reply, his heart was seized with a powerful emotion. He felt how much he was beloved by Martin Paz. "The day on which Sarah shall quit your dwelling to be restored to her father and her betrothed," sighed the Indian, "you will have a son and a friend less in the world."
A prey to his blind grief, Don Vegal walked at random. After having lost his daughter, the hope of his race and of his love, was he about to see himself also deprived of the child of his adoption whom he had wrested from death? Don Vegal had forgotten Sarah, to think only of Martin Paz.
The canoe was rapidly hastening to the cataract, in whose foam it was already enveloped. Martin Paz, standing on a rock, balanced his lasso which whistled around his head. At the instant the boat was about to be precipitated, the long leathern thong unfolded from above the head of the Indian, and surrounded the canoe with its noose. "My daughter! my daughter!" exclaimed Don Vegal.
Arms filled the holsters of each saddle; a carbine, formidable in the hands of Don Vegal, was suspended at his side. Martin Paz had encircled himself with his lasso, one extremity of which was fixed to the harness of his mule. The Spaniard and the Indian spurred their horses to their utmost speed.
Martin Paz might have conquered had he remained on the Plaza-Mayor. He fell into the arms of Don Vegal. "To the mountains, my son; flee to the mountains! now I command it." "Is my enemy indeed dead?" said Martin Paz, returning to the corpse of André Certa. A man was that moment searching it, and held a pocket-book which he had taken from it.
The overthrown gate and walls of the court revealed Don Vegal, sword in hand, surrounded by his faithful servants, and contending with an invading mass. This man's courage and pride were sublime; he was the first to present himself to mortal blows, and his formidable arm had surrounded him with corpses.
The Indian picked up the pocket-book, opened it hastily, searched it, uttered a cry of joy, and springing toward the marquis, put in his hand a paper on which were written these words: "Received of the Señor André Certa the sum of 100,000 piasters; I pledge myself to restore this sum doubled, if Sarah, whom I saved from the shipwreck of the San-José, and whom he is about to espouse, is not the daughter and only heir of the Marquis Don Vegal.
After his evening walk with the marquis, Martin Paz would return to his room, and leaning his elbow on the window, pass long hours in allowing his tumultuous thoughts to wander over the Pacific Ocean. Don Vegal lodged in a neighboring chamber, and guarded him with paternal tenderness.
Chorillos was still little frequented; so Don Vegal and Martin Paz retired to a pretty cottage, built on the sea-shore, could live in quiet contemplation of the vast plains of the Pacific Ocean.
He dived came up again at ten fathoms' distance thought of the daughter of Samuel; and seeing nothing more of the boat of the mestizo, regained the shore in a few strokes, already forgetting that he had just escaped death. He quickly rejoined Don Vegal. The latter, not having found him on his return, was anxiously awaiting him.
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