ale. She leads me to an inn, bids
me enter, and flies in search of the owner of the shallop. The landlord
comes to greet me, and I recognise in him an acquaintance--Maurice, a
former waiter in the Fonda de Paris, in Madrid. I questioned Maurice as
to my chances of getting across to Irun by land that night; but he
assured me it was too late, and really dangerous; that the road was
infested by gangs of desperadoes; and that it would be safer for me to
travel, even in the day-time, without money or valuables. The owner of
the shallop came, but as he had the audacity to ask eighty francs for
transporting me round to Fontarabia, and as I had found Maurice, I
resolved to stop in Los Pasages for the night.

"You have only to cross the water to-morrow morning," said Maurice, "and
you are in Kenteria, where you will be sure to get a vehicle."

The backs of the houses all overlook the port, and all are balconied and
furnished with flowered terraces, from which one can fish, look at his
reflection, or take a header into the water at pleasure. A glorious nook
for a reading-party's holiday, Los Pasages. Not if fair mysteries like
my friend crop up there; but where is she, by-the-way? She does not
re-appear; but Maurice will help me to discover who and what she is.

"Maurice, are there any pretty girls here?"

Maurice looks at me reproachfully.

"Senor, you have been conducted to my house by one who is acknowledged
to be the prettiest in all Spain."

That night I dreamt of Eugenia, the baker's daughter, the pride of Los
Pasages, who was waiting for a husband, but would have none but one who
helps Charles VII. to the throne. I recorded that dream for the
bachelors of Britain, and conjured them to make haste to propose for
her--not that the Carlist war was hurrying to a close; but I have
remarked that girls inclined to be plump at eighteen sometimes develop
excessive embonpoint about eight-and-twenty. On inquiry, I found a key
to the enigma which had filled me with sweet excitement. Eugenia, who
had been to the citadel-prison to carry provisions to a friend in
trouble, had seen me speaking to Colonel Stuart, and was anxious to
serve me because of my supposed Carlist tincture. My supposed Carlist
tincture did not prevent a lusty Basque boatman from charging five
francs next morning for the five minutes' pull across the water to the
road to Renteria, where I caught a huge yellow diligence, which had
ventured to leave San Sebastian