"So have I," added the Marquis, going to the window as well.
Dick joined them, and watched the skeleton-like old man across the street. He was tracking Huascar, like a little boy playing at brigands, childishly taking ineffective cover behind carts, pedestrians and trees. The Indian had noticed him, and turned once or twice; then continued on his way openly, quite unconcerned.
Suddenly, the Marquis, pensively leaning against the window, straightened himself with an exclamation.
"That is Orellana! The father of Maria-Cristina de Orellana!"
Natividad started.
"You are right That's who it is.… I remember him well now."
They remained as if stunned by this apparition from the terrible past; this ghost come to remind them that he too had had a beautiful daughter; that she had vanished ten years before, during the Interaymi, and that he would never see her again. The Marquis, crushed by a flood of old memories, sat inert in an armchair, deaf to Natividad's reassuring words, and refused to touch a mouthful of the meal prepared for them.
Dick, at the Marquis' exclamation, had dashed down into the street, caught up with the mys-
