CHAPTER XXVII.
ABBE BALTHAZAR.
Though my wounds had not ceased their smarting nor my bones their aching my happiness was complete.

The splendid prospect before me, the glittering peaks of the Cordillera, the gleaming waters of the far Pacific, the gardens and fountains of San Cristobal, the charm of Angela's presence, and the abbe's conversation made me oblivious to the past and careless of the future.

The hardships and perils I had lately undergone, my weary wanderings in the wilderness, the dull monotony of the Happy Valley, the passage of the Andes, my terrible ride on the _nandu_, all were forgotten.
The contrast between my by-gone miseries and present surroundings added zest to my enjoyment.

I felt as one suddenly transported from Hades to Elysium, and it required an effort to realize that it was not all a dream, destined to end in a rude awaking.
After some talk about Europe, the revolt of the Spanish colonies, and my recent adventures, the abbe gave me an account of his life and adventures.
The scion of a noble French family, he had been first a page of honor at Versailles, then an officer of the _garde du corps_, and among the gayest of the gay.

But while yet a youth some terrible event on which he did not like to dwell--a disastrous love affair, a duel in which he killed one who had been his friend--wrought so radical a change in his character and his ideals that he resigned his commission, left the court, and joined the Society of Jesus, under the name of Balthazar.