a Madonna like that, a living Madonna, by the colonel's side."

He was silent for a few moments, and then continued, with an air of
conviction, and jerking his head:

"All the same, we are very fond of women, we Frenchmen!"

ONE EVENING

The steamboat _Kleber_ had stopped, and I was admiring the beautiful bay
of Bougie, that was opened out before us. The high hills were covered
with forests, and in the distance the yellow sands formed a beach of
powdered gold, while the sun shed its fiery rays on the white houses of
the town.

The warm African breeze blew the odor of that great, mysterious
continent into which men of the Northern races but rarely penetrate,
into my face. For three months I had been wandering on the borders of
that great, unknown world, on the outskirts of that strange world of the
ostrich, the camel, the gazelle, the hippopotamus, the gorilla, the lion
and the tiger, and the negro. I had seen the Arab galloping like the
wind, and passing like a floating standard, and I had slept under those
brown tents, the moving habitation of those white birds of the desert,
and I felt, as it were, intoxicated with light, with fancy, and with
space.

But now, after this final excursion, I should have to start, to return
to France and to Paris, that city of useless chatter, of commonplace
cares, and of continual hand-shaking, and I should bid adieu to all that
I had got to like so much, which was so new to me, which I had scarcely
had time to see thoroughly, and which I so much regretted to leave.

A fleet of small boats surrounded the steamer, and, jumping into one
rowed by a negro lad, I soon reached the quay near the old Saracen gate,
whose gray ruins at the entrance of the Kabyle town, looked like an old
escutcheon of nobility. While I was standing by the side of my
portmanteau, looking at the great steamer lying at anchor in the roads,
and filled with admiration at that unique shore, and that semi-circle of
hills, bathed in blue light, which were more beautiful than those of
Ajaccio, or of Porto, in Corsica, a heavy hand was laid on my shoulder,
and on turning round I saw a tall man with a long beard, dressed in
white flannel, and wearing a straw hat, standing by my side, and looking
at me with his blue eyes.

"Are you not an old school-fellow of mine?" he said.

"It is very possible. What is your name?"

"Tremoulin."

"By Jove! You were in the same class as I was."

"Ah! Old fellow, I reco