stability in a country where everything is so unstable, a hand was placed lightly on his shoulder. He raised his head to see the old lieutenant gazing at him with something like a smile in place of the hard expression and the frown which usually characterized him.
"Young man, be careful! Learn from your father!" was the abrupt greeting of the old soldier.
"Pardon me, but you seem to have thought a great deal of my father. Can you tell me how he died?" asked Ibarra, staring at him.
"What! Don't you know about it?" asked the officer.
"I asked Don Santiago about it, but he wouldn't promise to tell me until tomorrow. Perhaps you know?"
"I should say I do, as does everybody else. He died in prison!"
The young man stepped backward a pace and gazed searchingly at the lieutenant. "In prison? Who died in prison?"
"Your father, man, since he was in confinement," was the somewhat surprised answer.
"My father—in prison—confined in a prison? What are you talking about? Do you know who my father was? Are you—?" demanded the young man, seizing the officer's arm.
"I rather think that I'm not mistaken. He was Don Rafael Ibarra."
"Yes, Don Rafael Ibarra," echoed the youth weakly.
"Well, I thought you knew about it," muttered the soldier in a tone of compassion as he saw what was passing in Ibarra's mind. "I supposed that you—but be brave! Here one cannot be honest and keep out of jail."
"I must believe that you are not joking with me," replied Ibarra in a weak voice, after a few moments' silence. "Can you tell me why he was in prison?"
The old man seemed to be perplexed. "It's strange to me that your family affairs were not made known to you."
"His last letter, a year ago, said that I should not be
