to me, I conjure you."

Notwithstanding his complete ignorance of certain social
conventionalisms, Djalma had too much good sense and uprightness, not to
appreciate reason, when it appeared reasonable. The words of Rodin calmed
him. With that ingenuous modesty, with which natures full of strength and
generosity are almost always endowed, he answered mildly: "You are right,
father. I am no longer in my own country. Here the customs are different.
I will reflect upon it."

Notwithstanding his craft and suppleness, Rodin sometimes found himself
perplexed by the wild and unforseen ideas of the young Indian. Thus he
saw, to his great surprise, that Djalma now remained pensive for some
minutes, after which he resumed in a calm but firm tone: "I have obeyed
you, father: I have reflected."

"Well, my dear prince?"

"In no country in the world, under no pretext, should a man of honor
conceal his friendship for another man of honor."

"But suppose there should be danger in avowing this friendship?" said
Rodin, very uneasy at the turn the conversation was taking. Djalma eyed
the Jesuit with contemptuous astonishment, and made no reply.

"I understand your silence, my dear prince: a brave man ought to defy
danger. True; but if it should be you that the danger threatens, in case
this friendship were discovered, would not your man of honor be
excusable, even praiseworthy, to persist in remaining unknown?"