otten.

"No," replied the other. "What is this house? I was just going into it."

Mon turned and looked up at the building with a little wave of the hand,
indicating lightly the stones and mortar.

"It is just a house, my friend, as you see--a house, like another."

"And who lives in it?"

"Poor people, and foolish people. As in any other. People one must pity
and cannot help despising."

He laughed, and as he spoke he led the way, as it were, unconsciously
away from this house which was like another.

"Because they are poor?" inquired Sarrion, who did not move a step in
response to Evasio Mon's lead.

"Partly," admitted Mon, holding up one finger. "Because, my friend, none
but the foolish are poor in this world."

"Then why has the good God sent so many fools into the world?"

"Because He wants a few saints, I suppose."

Mon was still trying to lead him away from that threshold and Sarrion
still stood his ground. Their half-bantering talk suddenly collapsed, and
they stood looking at each other in silence for a moment. Both were what
may be called "ready" men, quick to catch a thought and answer.

"I will tell you," said Sarrion quietly, "why I am going into this house.
I have long ceased to take an interest in the politics of this poor
country, as you know."

Mon's gesture seemed to indicate that Sarrion had only done what was wise
and sensible in a matter of which it was no longer any use to talk.

"But to my friends I still give a thought," went on the Count. "Two
nights ago a man was attacked in this street--by the usual street
cutthroats, it is to be supposed. I saw it all from my balcony there.
See, from this corner you can perceive the balcony."

He drew Mon to the corner of the street, and pointed out the Sarrion
Palace, gloomy and deserted at the further end of the street.

"But it was dark, and I could not see much," he added, seeming
unconsciously to answer a question passing in his companion's mind; for
Mon's pleasant eyes were measuring the distance.

"I thought they brought him in here; for before I could descend help
came, and the cutthroats ran away."

"It is like your good, kind heart, my friend, to interest yourself in the
fate of some rake, who was probably tipsy, or else he would not have been
abroad at that hour."

"I had not mentioned the hour."

"One presumes," said Mon, with a short laugh, "that such incidents do not
happen in the early evening. However, let us by all mea