ing to a badly spent life."

We watched the little procession cross the great square, their footsteps
scarcely echoing. The sacred hush and atmosphere that surrounds the
dying seemed to go with them as they walked. Fitful gleams and shadows
were thrown out by the lantern--they might have been shades of departed
spirits. In the dark night, under the silent stars, and in that solemn
moment, we seemed brought into touch with the unseen world. We felt
deeply for Alphonse, who was passing through the great sorrow of his
life. His own silver cord would now loosen, and no doubt he too would
quickly follow into the unseen. His wife would take with her all his
hold upon life.

After this solemn incident we could only make our way back to the fonda.
El Sereno accompanied us to its threshold. We walked down the avenue
between the trees, that were still whispering their mighty secrets to
each other. Now they seemed laden with immortal mysteries: their burden
was of souls winging their flight to realms where no torment touches
them. They were in communion with the stars overhead shining down with a
serene benediction.

Our portal to-night was open and the night porter was at his post,
watching for his tardy visitors! wondering why they tarried. What to him
was that tragedy that was passing at the other end of the town?

We inquired for Rose. She had put up her washing-pin, and forgiven the
erring waiter; the sun had not gone down upon her wrath. Had her spouse
also forgiven the gay Lothario, or had they arranged for coffee and
pistols?

The senor was joking. Such manner of dealing was for gentlefolk. For his
part, if he owed any one a mortal grudge he would avenge himself by the
short Corsican way: a stab in the dark. A short reckoning and a long
rest. But he had never quarrelled in his life; never owed any man a
grudge. Life was too short; he was too lazy. He thought it a good plan
to let things take their course. If any one cared to embrace his wife,
they were welcome to do so. He had no jealousy in his composition. She
was now sleeping the sleep of the just: and for all he knew and for all
he cared, her dreams were of gay Lotharios whom she was chastening with
her washing-pin.

We said farewell to El Sereno, who lamented our departure on the morrow,
and feared he might see us no more.

This was probable. Lerida, for all its quaint streets, old-world nooks
and splendid outlines, was hardly a place to come to a second time.