that　time　learning　banking；　Garibaldi　was　a　wonderful　man！　　One　could
  not　help　it。〃　　He　spoke　quite　simply。　　〃You　might　say　it　was　like
  seeing　a　little　man　stand　up　to　a　ring　of　great　hulking　fellows；　I
  went；　just　as　you　would　have　gone；　if　you'd　been　there。　　I　was　not
  long　with　themour　war　began；　I　had　to　go　back　home。〃　　He　said　this
  as　if　there　had　been　but　one　war　since　the　world　began。　　〃In　'60；〃　he
  mused；　〃till　'65。　　Just　think　of　it！　　The　poor　country。　　Why；　in　my
  State；　South　CarolinaI　was　through　it　allnobody　could　be　spared
  therewe　were　one　to　three。〃
  〃I　suppose　you　have　a　love　of　fighting？〃
  〃H'm！〃　he　said；　as　if　considering　the　idea　for　the　first　time。
  〃Sometimes　I　fought　for　a　living；　and　sometimesbecause　I　was
  obliged；　one　must　try　to　be　a　gentleman。　　But　won't　you　have　some
  more？〃
  I　refused　more　tea　and　took　my　leave；　carrying　away　with　me　a　picture
  of　the　old　fellow　looking　down　from　the　top　of　the　steep　staircase；
  one　hand　pressed　to　his　back；　the　other　twisting　up　those　little
  white　moustaches；　and　murmuring；　〃Take　care；　my　dear　sir；　there's　a
  step　there　at　the　corner。〃
  〃To　be　a　gentleman！〃　　I　repeated　in　the　street；　causing　an　old　French
  lady　to　drop　her　parasol；　so　that　for　about　two　minutes　we　stood
  bowing　and　smiling　to　each　other；　then　separated　full　of　the　best
  feeling。
  II
  A　week　later　I　found　myself　again　seated　next　him　at　a　concert。　　In
  the　meantime　I　had　seen　him　now　and　then；　but　only　in　passing。　　He
  seemed　depressed。　　The　corners　of　his　lips　were　tightened；　his　tanned
  cheeks　had　a　greyish　tinge；　his　eyes　were　restless；　and；　between　two
  numbers　of　the　programme；　he　murmured；　tapping　his　fingers　on　his
  hat；　〃Do　you　ever　have　bad　days？　　Yes？　　Not　pleasant；　are　they？〃
  Then　something　occurred　from　which　all　that　I　have　to　tell　you
  followed。　　There　came　into　the　concert…hall　the　heroine　of　one　of
  those　romances；　crimes；　follies；　or　irregularities；　call　it　what　you
  will；　which　had　just　attracted　the　〃world's〃　stare。　　She　passed　us
  with　her　partner；　and　sat　down　in　a　chair　a　few　rows　to　our　right。
  She　kept　turning　her　head　round；　and　at　every　turn　I　caught　the　gleam
  of　her　uneasy　eyes。　　Some　one　behind　us　said：　〃The　brazen　baggage！〃
  My　companion　turned　full　round；　and　glared　at　whoever　it　was　who　had
  spoken。　　The　change　in　him　was　quite　remarkable。　　His　lips　were　drawn
  back　from　his　teeth；　he　frowned；　the　scar　on　his　temple　had　reddened。
  〃Ah！〃　he　said　to　me。　　〃The　hue　and　cry！　　Contemptible！　　How　I　hate
  it！　　But　you　wouldn't　understand！　〃he　broke　off；　and　slowly
  regained　his　usual　air　of　self…obliteration；　he　even　seemed　ashamed；
  and　began　trying　to　brush　his　moustaches　higher　than　ever；　as　if
  aware　that　his　heat　had　robbed　them　of　neatness。
  〃I'm　not　myself；　when　I　speak　of　such　matters；〃　he　said　suddenly；　and
  began　reading　his　programme；　holding　it　upside　down。　　A　minute　later；
  however；　he　said　in　a　peculiar　voice：　〃There　are　people　to　be　found
  who　object　to　vivisecting　animals；　but　the　vivisection　of　a　woman；
  who　minds　that？　　Will　you　tell　me　it's　right；　that　because　of　some
  tragedy　like　thisbelieve　me；　it　is　always　a　tragedywe　should　hunt
  down　a　woman？　　That　her　fellow…women　should　make　an　outcast　of　her？
  That　we；　who　are　men；　should　make　a　prey　of　her？　　If　I　thought
  that。。。。〃　　Again　he　broke　off；　staring　very　hard　in　front　of　him。
  〃It　is　we　who　make　them　what　they　are；　and　even　if　that　is　not　so
  why！　if　I　thought　there　was　a　woman　in　the　world　I　could　not　take　my
  hat　off　toIIcouldn't　sleep　at　night。〃　　He　got　up　from　his　seat；
  put　on　his　old　straw　hat　with　trembling　fingers；　and；　without　a
  glance　back；　went　out；　stumbling　over　the　chair…legs。
  I　sat　there；　horribly　disturbed；　the　words；　〃One　must　try　to　be　a
  gentleman！〃　haunting　me。　　When　I　came　out；　he　was　standing　by　the
  entrance　with　one　hand　on　his　hip　and　the　other　on　his　dog。　　In　that
  attitude　of　waiting　he　was　such　a　patient　figure；　the　sun　glared　down
  and　showed　the　threadbare　nature　of　his　clothes　and　the　thinness　of
  his　brown　hands；　with　their　long　forgers　and　nails　yellow　from
  tobacco。　　Seeing　me　he　came　up　the　steps　again；　and　raised　his　hat。
  〃I　am　glad　to　have　caught　you；　please　forget　all　that。〃　　I　asked　if
  he　would　do　me　the　honour　of　dining　at　my　hotel。
  〃Dine？〃　he　repeated　with　the　sort　of　smile　a　child　gives　if　you　offer
  him　a　box　of　soldiers；　〃with　the　greatest　pleasure。　　I　seldom　dine
  out；　but　I　think　I　can　muster　up　a　coat。　　Yesyesand　at　what　time
  shall　I　come？　　At　half…past　seven；　and　your　hotel　is？　　Good！　I
  shall　be　there。　　Freda；　mia　cara；　you　will　be　alone　this　evening。
  You　do　not　smoke　caporal；　I　fear。　　I　find　it　fairly　good；　though　it
  has　too　much　bite。〃　　He　walked　off　with　Freda；　puffing　at　his　thin
  roll　of　caporal。
  Once　or　twice　he　stopped；　as　if　bewildered　or　beset　by　some　sudden
  doubt　or　memory；　and　every　time　he　stopped；　Freda　licked　his　hand。
  They　disappeared　round　the　corner　of　the　street；　and　I　went　to　my
  hotel　to　see　about　dinner。　　On　the　way　I　met　Jules　le　Ferrier；　and
  asked　him　to　come　too。
  〃My　faith；　yes！〃　he　said；　with　the　rosy　pessimism　characteristic　of
  the　French　editor。　　〃Man　must　dine！〃
  At　half…past　six　we　assembled。　　My　〃Cosmopolitan〃　was　in　an　old
  frock…coat　braided　round　the　edges；　buttoned　high　and　tight；　defining
  more　than　ever　the　sharp　lines　of　his　shoulders　and　the　slight　kink
  of　his　back；　he　had　brought　with　him；　too；　a　dark…peaked　cap　of
  military　shape；　which　he　had　evidently　selected　as　more　fitting　to
  the　coat　than　a　straw　hat。　　He　smelled　slightly　of　some　herb。
  We　sat　down　to　dinner；　and　did　not　rise　for　two　hours。　　He　was　a
  charming　guest；　praised　everything　he　atenot　with　commonplaces；　but
  in　words　that　made　you　feel　it　had　given　him　real　pleasure。　　At
  first；　whenever　Jules　made　one　of　his　caustic　remarks；　he　looked
  quite　pained；　but　suddenly　seemed　to　make　up　his　mind　that　it　was
  bark；　not　bite；　and　then　at　each　of　them　he　would　turn　to　me　and　say；
  〃Aha！　that's　goodisn't　it？〃　　With　every　glass　of　wine　he　became
  more　gentle　and　more　genial；　sitting　very　upright；　and　tightly
  buttoned…in；　while　the　little　white　wings　of　his　moustache　seemed
  about　to　leave　him　for　a　better　world。
  In　spite　of　the　most　leading　questions；　however；　we　could　not　get　him
  to　talk　about　himself；　for　even　Jules；　most　cynical　of　men；　had
  recognised　that　he　was　a　hero　of　romance。　　He　would　answer　gently　and
  precisely；　and　then　sit　twisting　his　moustaches；　perfectly
  unconscious　that　we　wanted　more。　　Presently；　as　the　wine　went　a
  little　to　his　head；　his　thin；　high　voice　grew　thinner；　his　cheeks
  became　flushed；　his　eyes　brighter；　at　the　end　of　dinner　he　said：　〃I
  hope　I　have　not　been　noisy。〃
  We　assured　him　that　he　had　not　been　noisy　enough。　　〃You're　laughing
  at　me；〃　he　answered。　　〃Surely　I've　been　talking　all　the　time！〃
  〃Mon　Dieu！〃　said　Jules；　〃we　have　been　looking　for　some　fables　of　your
  wars；　but　nothingnothing；　not　enough　to　feed　a　frog！〃
  The　old　fellow　looked　troubled。
  〃To　be　sure！〃　he　mused。　　〃Let　me　think！　there　is　that　about　Colhoun
  at　Gettysburg；　and　there's　the　story　of　Garibaldi　and　the　Miller。〃
  He　plunged　into　a　tale；　not　at　all　about　himself；　which　would　have
  been　extremely　dull；　but　for　the　conviction　in　his　eyes；　and　the　way
  he　stopped　and　commented。　　〃So　you　see；〃　he　ended；　〃that's　the　sort
  of　man　Garibaldi　was！　　I　could　tell　you　another　tale　of　him。〃
  Catching　an　introspective　look　in　Jules's　eye；　however；　I　proposed
  taking　our　cigars　over　to　the　cafe　opposite。
  〃Delightful！〃　the　old　fellow　said：　〃We　shall　have　a　band　and　the
  fresh　air；　and　clear　consciences　for　our　cigars。　　I　cannot　like　this
  smoking　in　a　room　where　there　are　ladies　dining。〃
  He　walked　out　in　front　of　us；　smoking　with　an　air　of　great　enjoyment。
  Jules；　glowing　above　his　candid　shirt　and　waistcoat；　whispered　to　me；
  〃Mon　cher　Georges；　how　he　is　good！〃　then　sighed；　and　added　darkly：
  〃The　poor　man！〃
  We　sat　down　at　a　little　table。　　Close　by；　the　branches　of　a　plane…
  tree　rustled　faintly；　their　leaves　hung　lifeless；　speckled　like　the
  breasts　of　birds；　or　black　against　the　sky；　then；　caught　by　the
  breeze；　fluttered　suddenly。
  The　old　fellow　sat；　with　head　thrown　back；　a　smile　on　his　face；
  coming　now　and　then　out　of　his　enchanted　dreams　to　drink　coffee；
  answer　our　questions；　or　hum　the　tune　that　the　band　was　playing。　　The
  ash　of　his　cigar　grew　very　long。　　One　of　those　bizarre　figures　in
  Oriental　garb；　who；　night　after　night；　offer　their　doubtful　wares　at
  a　great　price；　appeared　in　the　white　glare　of　a　lamp；　looked　with　a
  furtive　smile　at　his　face；　and　glided　back；　discomfited　by　its
  unconsciousness。　　It　was　a　night　for　dreams！　　A　faint；　half…eastern
  scent　in　the　air；　of　black　tobacco　and　spice；　few　people　as　yet　at
  the　little　tables；　the　waiters　leisurely；　the　band　soft！　　What　was　he
  dreaming　of；　that　old　fellow；　whose　cigar…ash　grew　so　long？