Sometime during the afternoon the negro heard himself addressed
through the window against the bars of which he leaned. The
speaker was Dona Isabel. She had waited patiently until she knew
he must be faint from exhaustion and then she had let herself into
the room behind the grating, whence she could talk to him without
fear of observation.

"Do you suffer, Sebastian?" she began in a tone of gentleness and
pity.

"Yes, mistress." The speaker's tongue was thick and swollen.

"La! La! What a crime! And you the most faithful slave in all
Cuba!"

"Yes, mistress."

"Can I help you?"

The negro raised his head; he shook his body to rid himself of the
insects which were devouring him.

"Give me a drink of water," he said, hoarsely.

"Surely, a great gourdful, all cool and dripping from the well.
But first I want you to tell me something. Come now, let us have
an understanding with each other."

"A drink, for the love of Christ," panted the old man, and Dona