an oak, and the cooking utensils, some baggage, and two
asses near at hand, looked as if they, too, were travelers. L'Isle
addressed a tall, dark man, of middle age, who seemed to be the head
of the party. As soon as these men heard their own language from the
mouth of a foreigner, so fluently and correctly spoken, their faces
lightened up with interest and intelligence. They gave ready answers
to all inquiries, and L'Isle had to reply in turn to many a question
as to himself, his companions, and the news of the war. The chief
shepherd was particularly anxious to know the condition of the
province of Beira, and what were the chances of a visit there from the
French during the coming summer. His flock, he said, was one of those
which winter on the heaths and plains of Alemtejo, and, to avoid the
droughts which make them a desert in summer, are driven across the
Tagus in the spring, into the _Serra Estrella_, when the snow has
melted, and vegetation again covers that range of mountains.

One of his companions offered for sale two rabbits and some partridges
he had shot on the moors, which L'Isle bought, like a provident
traveler, who does not rely too much on the larder of the next inn.

Lady Mabel, with attentive ear, had gathered the sense of much that
had been said, and L'Isle had interpreted what puzzled her. But being
a woman, she was unwilling to remain a mere listener; so, elaborately
framing a question in Portuguese, she addressed the head shepherd,
seeking to know how far the migrations of these flocks resembled the
Spanish mesta. The dark man gazed at her admiringly and attentively,
repeating some of her words, but unable to make out her meaning. She
bit her lip, while he, shaking his head, turned to L'Isle, and said,
"what a pity so lovely a lady cannot speak Portuguese. She looks just
like our 'Lady of Nazareth,' at Pederneira, only her hair is brighter,
and her eyes are blue."

"What says he about my language and _Nossa Senhora de Nazareth?_" said
Lady Mabel. "Tell him that I speak better Portuguese than she ever
did, for all her black eyes and tawny skin."

"By no means," said L'Isle, smiling. "As you will have no opportunity
to evangelize the man, it will do no good to outrage his idolatrous
veneration for _Nossa Senhora de Nazareth?_ You might shake his
superstition, yet not purify his faith, but merely drive him to a
choice between the church and infidelity."

They now left the shepherds to join the