Your cochero may point out a certain grove of orange-trees,
now little more than a rank tangle, and tell you about the quinta
of Don Esteban Varona, and its hidden treasure; about little
Esteban and Rosa, the twins; and about Sebastian, the giant slave,
who died in fury, taking with him the secret of the well.
The Spanish Main is rich in tales of treasure-trove, for when the
Antilles were most affluent they were least secure, and men were
put to strange shifts to protect their fortunes. Certain hoards,
like jewels of tragic history, in time assumed a sort of evil
personality, not infrequently exercising a dire influence over the
lives of those who chanced to fall under their spells. It was as
if the money were accursed, for certainly the seekers often came
to evil. Of such a character was the Varona treasure. Don Esteban
himself was neither better nor worse than other men of his time,
and although part of the money he hid was wrung from the toil of
slaves and the traffic in their bodies, much of it was clean
enough, and in time the earth purified it all. Since his acts made
so deep an impress, and since the treasure he left played so big a
part in the destinies of those who came after him, it is well that
some account of these matters should be given.
The story, please remember, is an old one; it has been often told,
and in the telling and retelling it is but natural that a certain
glamour, a certain tropical extravagance, should attach to it,
therefore you should make allowance for some exaggeration, some
accretions due to the lapse of time.
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