my mind. Every consideration faded before the strength of
my passion. This beautiful girl seemed equally in love with me. I was
young, they told me I was good-looking, and in my uniform I dare say I
was not unattractive. Then came my error. I obtained a week's leave of
absence, and deserted. We fled together to Spain, and of course I was
outlawed. I sacrificed home, country and honour; I ruined all my worldly
prospects; and for what? For a pair of bewitching eyes. Nay, she had
more than that; she was a good woman and has made me a good wife; but
had she been twice favoured, my folly would have been equally vast. For
years and years I was possessed of a fever--that of mal du pays: all I
had deliberately thrown away gained a hundred-fold in charm, haunted my
mind by day, coloured my dreams. But there was no place for repentance.
Now it has all passed away. Senor, my great-nephew is a French count,
rich and well spoken of, one of the high ones of the land. He does not
even know of my existence. Life has only one thing left me--death! But I
pray I may live to close the sightless eyes of my wife, and then follow
her speedily, that we may rest in one grave."

"Has your wife long been blind?" we asked in sympathy.

"Only two years, senor. You would not know it to look at her. In spite
of her eighty-seven years, her eyes are still soft and bright, though
closed to the world. I have now not only to earn the daily bread, but to
buy it and manage the household. We have many good neighbours who help
the old couple, and look in upon the wife when I am at work. Ah, senor,
it is delightful to find one to whom I can talk in my own tongue. Surely
the senor is French too?"

"Land of our birth," we confessed; "nevertheless we are English, and
would have it so."

The old man hesitated; we saw there was something upon his mind; it came
out at last.

"Would the senor deign to come and see the wife, and talk to her a
little of France and the French? She still speaks it perfectly, and she
too has often longed for the country and privileges that for her sake I
threw away. Such a visit would colour the remaining of her days. It is
but a few steps."

Who could resist such an appeal? We turned and accompanied the
patriarch, who in spite of his nearly ninety years, still walked with a
certain amount of vigour. The few steps grew into a good many, as the
old man passed under the gateway and turned to the left down the long
narrow street.