Page:Works of Jules Verne - Parke - Vol 1.djvu/158

128 just now I am indisposed to part with ready cash, as I am marrying my daughter to the young squire, André Certa. Do you know him?"

"Not at all. But lose no time: our bargain is made. Take the caskets, and give me the gold."

"Would your lordship wish for a receipt?" asked Samuel.

The marquis condescended to give no reply, and left the room.

"Arrogant Spaniard!" muttered the Jew, and gnashed his teeth in wrath. "Would that I could crush your pride as I can ruin your estate! By Solomon! 'tis clever practice to make one's interests and one's wishes agree so well."

After leaving the Jew, the marquis had gone to Martin Paz. He found him in a state of the gloomiest dejection.

"Well! how now? " he said kindly.

"Ah, señor! the daughter of that Jew is the girl I love."

"A Jewess!" exclaimed the marquis, in a tone of abhorrence which he could ill disguise; but compassionating the sorrow of the Indian, he only said," Now then, it is time to start; we will talk about these things as we go along."

Within an hour Martin Paz, after changing his clothes, left the town in company with the Marquis Don Vegal, who took no other attendants.

The sea-baths of Chorillos are two leagues distant from Lima. It is a parish inhabited by Indians, and has a pretty church. During the warm season it is a favorite resort of all the élite of Lima, for the public gaming-tables, which are forbidden in the city, are here kept open throughout the summer. The ladies especially show a remarkable enthusiasm for this amusement, and during the season many a wealthy knight has seen his large fortune pass away into the hands of his fair opponents.

Just at that time Chorillos was almost deserted, and Don Vegal and Martin Paz, in their retired cottage on the sea- shore, were free to contemplate in peaceful solitude the wide expanse of the Pacific.

The Marquis Don Vegal, a scion of one of the most ancient Spanish families in Peru, was the only surviving representative of that noble lineage of which he was so justly proud. Traces of the deepest melancholy were ever visible

V. I Verne