on't know what infernal rock you may ground
on. Every man has a standing account with his neighbor, just as madame
has at her _fournisseur's_; and, _ma foi_, those are the only accounts
they settle. The master of the _Santiago_ may pay me one of these days
for the pretty names I heaved after him when we parted company, but
he'll never pay me my wages.'

A short pause followed this exposition of the virtues of the Spaniard.

'You yourself never put a man out of the world, then?' resumed Hortense.

'Oh, _que si_!.... Are you horrified?'

'Not at all. I know that the thing is often justifiable.'

The man was silent a moment, perhaps with surprise, for the next thing
he said was:

'Madame is Spanish?'

'In that, perhaps, I am,' replied Hortense.

Again her companion was silent. The pause was prolonged. Madame Bernier
broke it by a question which showed that she had been following the same
train of thought.

'What is sufficient ground in this country for killing a man?'

The boatman sent a loud laugh over the water. Hortense drew her cloak
closer about her.

'I'm afraid there is none.'

'Isn't there a right of self-defence?'

'To be sure there is--it's one I ought to know something about. But it's
one that _ces messieurs_ at the Palais make short work with.'

'In South America and those countries, when a man makes life
insupportable to you, what do you do?'

'_Mon Dieu_! I suppose you kill him.'

'And in France?'

'I suppose you kill yourself. Ha! ha! ha!'

By this time they had reached the end of the great breakwater,
terminating in a lighthouse, the limit, on one side, of the inner
harbor. The sun had set.

'Here we are at the lighthouse,' said the man; 'it's growing dark. Shall
we turn?'

Hortense rose in her place a few moments, and stood looking out to sea.
'Yes,' she said at last, 'you may go back--slowly.' When the boat had
headed round she resumed her old position, and put one of her hands over
the side, drawing it through the water as they moved, and gazing into
the long ripples.

At last she looked up at her companion. Now that her face caught some of
the lingering light of the west, he could see that it was deathly pale.

'You find it hard to get along in the world,' said she; 'I shall be very
glad to help you.'

The man started, and stared a moment. Was it because this remark jarred
upon the expression which he was able faintly to discern in her eyes?
The next, he put his hand to hi