Eight Hundred Leagues on the Amazon by Jules Verne

Such had been his life for those long years; such had been the

continuous source of his sufferings, of which he had kept the secret

so well; such had been the existence of this man, who had no action

to be ashamed of, and whom a great injustice compelled to hide away

from himself!

But at length the day arrived when there could no longer remain a

doubt as to the affection which Manoel bore to Minha, when he could

see that a year would not go by before he was asked to give his

consent to her marriage, and after a short delay he no longer

hesitated to proceed in the matter.

A letter from him, addressed to Judge Ribeiro, acquainted the chief

justice with the secret of the existence of Joam Dacosta, with the

name under which he was concealed, with the place where he lived with

his family, and at the same time with his formal intention of

delivering himself up to justice, and taking steps to procure the

revision of the proceedings, which would either result in his

rehabilitation or in the execution of the iniquitous judgment

delivered at Villa Rica.

What were the feelings which agitated the heart of the worthy

magistrate? We can easily divine them. It was no longer to the

advocate that the accused applied; it was to the chief justice of the

province that the convict appealed. Joam Dacosta gave himself over to

him entirely, and did not even ask him to keep the secret.

Judge Ribeiro was at first troubled about this unexpected revelation,

but he soon recovered himself, and scrupulously considered the duties

which the position imposed on him. It was his place to pursue

criminals, and here was one who delivered himself into his hands.

This criminal, it was true, he had defended; he had never doubted but

that he had been unjustly condemned; his joy had been extreme when he

saw him escape by flight from the last penalty; he had even

instigated and facilitated his flight! But what the advocate had done

in the past could the magistrate do in the present?

“Well, yes!” had the judge said, “my conscience tells me not to

abandon this just man. The step he is taking is a fresh proof of his

innocence, a moral proof, even if he brings me others, which may be

the most convincing of all! No! I will not abandon him!”

From this day forward a secret correspondence took place between the

magistrate and Joam Dacosta. Ribeiro at the outset cautioned his

client against compromising himself by any imprudence. He had again

to work up the matter, again to read over the papers, again to look

through the inquiries. He had to find out if any new facts had come

to light in the diamond province referring to so serious a case. Had

any of the accomplices of the crime, of the smugglers who had

attacked the convoy, been arrested since the attempt? Had any

confessions or half-confessions been brought forward? Joam Dacosta

had done nothing but protest his innocence from the very first. But

that was not enough, and Judge Ribeiro was desirous of finding in the

case itself the clue to the real culprit.

Joam Dacosta had accordingly been prudent. He had promised to be so.

But in all his trials it was an immense consolation for him to find

his old advocate, though now a chief justice, so firmly convinced

that he was not guilty. Yes! Joam Dacosta, in spite of his

condemnation, was a victim, a martyr, an honest man to whom society

owed a signal reparation! And when the magistrate knew the past

career of the fazender of Iquitos since his sentence, the position of

his family, all that life of devotion, of work, employed unceasingly

for the happiness of those belonging to him, he was not only more

convinced but more affected, and determined to do all that he could

to procure the rehabilitation of the felon of Tijuco.

For six months a correspondence had passed between these two men.

One day, the case being pressing, Joam Dacosta wrote to Judge

Ribeiro:

“In two months I will be with you, in the power of the chief justice

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