"Too true!" he said, returning to the young man; "his troubles are indeed ended; but tell me what is it that ails thyself."
"'Tis memory," said the young man, raising himself on his elbow, and gazing sadly into Francisco's face. "Your conversation to-night for a moment aroused memories which I have long sought to stifle.—Lad," he said, laying a hand impressively on Mariano's arm, "take the advice that Bacri gave you. I was once as you are. I came here—years ago—with a father like thine; but he was an older and a feebler man. Like you, I fought against our fate with the ferocity of a wild beast, and they tortured me until my life hung by a thread, for I could not endure to see the old man beaten. As you said just now, 'you cannot wonder that I found it impossible to submit;' but they taught me to submit. Oh! they are clever devils in their cruelty. They saw that I cared not for my life, but they also saw that I suffered through my father, and at last when I became rebellious they beat him. That tamed me, and taught me submission. The old one who lies there was a friend and comrade in sorrow of the dear father who was set free a year ago. I lay thinking of them both to-night, and when I saw you two taking the first steps on the weary path which I have trod so long—and have now, methinks, well-nigh finished—I could not restrain myself.
