continued the lady.

"Señora!" I exclaimed, "the action was of no merit whatever. Any passing sailor would have done the same."

But she, paying no attention, went on to relate what happened with all details, exaggerating my conduct.

This panegyric from her mouth, after what had happened, caused me more shame than pleasure. I felt the pangs of remorse, and what at first had seemed to me a slight imprudence now appeared a lack of delicacy.

Returning to the town I left them at the hotel door, refusing to stop with them, in spite of Martí's insistence. In these first moments the presence of a stranger might be unwelcome. But I agreed to take coffee with him that evening at the Suizo. I hoped that he might bring his wife, for she enjoyed taking a walk after dinner.

But the hope was not realized. Martí came alone, saying that his wife was fatigued and indisposed. I thought this a pretext, and it made me sad. Perhaps that first moment had exhausted her effusive gratitude, and distrust and rancor had returned to her heart.

In less than an hour, Martí and I were excellent friends. He struck me as a sympathetic person, of open nature, affectionate, cheerful, and candid. The hundred affairs that occupied him did not leave him much time to give to any one thing. In his conversation he sped lightly from one affair to another, but showed himself ever wide-awake and energetic. I let him talk, observing him with intense curiosity. The impression from that first conversation that best remains with me was his fashion of rumpling his wavy hair, running his fingers back through it after the manner of a comb, and giving a little cough when about to express some idea that he deemed important. This mannerism, which in another might perhaps seem ridiculous, had in him a gracious effect, boyish and attractive. I cannot clearly express the sentiments that Martí inspired in me at that time. They were an indefinable mixture of sympathy and repugnance, of curiosity and jealousy, which can be accounted for only by one who has found himself in a situation analogous to mine.

The Urano was to weigh anchor the next day at flood-tide in the afternoon. In the morning I presented myself at the hotel to take leave of my new friends. Martí and his mother-in-law warmly expressed their regret at my departure. Cristina did not make her appearance. She was shut in her chamber at her toilet, as I understood, and had not the kindness to have me asked to wait; on the contrary, she dismissed me so abruptly that she seemed to fear I might.

"Adios, Captain Ribot!" she called from within. "Pardon me for not coming out; it is impossible at this moment. May you have a most happy voyage; and again you have a million thanks from me. We can never forget what you have done. A pleasant trip!"

Martí urged me to breakfast with them, but I had much to do and declined. Moreover, I must confess I felt so melancholy that I wanted to get into the street. He, as well as Doña Amparo, offered me a thousand inducements to run down to Valencia on my return to Barcelona, where the steamer always stayed for eight or ten days. He, as well as his wife, would take great pleasure in entertaining me at their home. I was obliged to promise to do so, but with the definite intention of not complying.

It was always difficult to get away from the ship; and the coldness of Doña Cristina gave me no encouragement to make such a visit.

In the afternoon Martí came on board to press my hand once more before my departure. He again urged me cordially not to fail to make them a visit. Again I made the promise, with the mental reservation already mentioned. We finally bade each other a most affectionate farewell and I put to sea, continuing my voyage to Hamburg.