De Castano shook his round bullet head, saying with some
impatience: "You still believe in that treasure, eh? My dear
senora, the only treasure Varona left was his adorable children--
and your admirable self." Immediately the speaker regretted his
words, for he remembered, too late, that Dona Isabel was reputed
to be a trifle unbalanced on this subject of the Varona treasure.

"I do not believe; I KNOW!" the widow answered, with more than
necessary vehemence. "What became of all Esteban's money if he did
not bury it? He never gave any to me, for he was a miser. You
know, as well as I, that he carried on a stupendous business in
slaves and sugar, and it was common knowledge that he hid every
peso for fear of his enemies. But where? WHERE? That is the
question."

"You, if any one, should know, after all the years you have spent
in hunting for it," the merchant observed. "Dios mio! Almost
before Esteban was buried you began the search. People said you
were going to tear this house down."

"Well, I never found a trace. I had holes dug in the gardens,
too."

"You see? No, senora, it is possible to hide anything except
money. No man can conceal that where another will not find it."

Isabel's face had grown hard and avaricious, even during this
brief talk; her eyes were glowing; plainly she was as far as ever
from giving up her long-cherished conviction.