'. 



mf 



THE RED TART AN E, G45 



I believe they would have sought the bed of suffering of a dying man, 

 to analyse his convulsive movements ; but, instead of my death, they 

 amused themselves with the recital of my misfortunes they were 

 gratified by making each painful chord of my heart vibrate,; to 

 ascertain the effect produced. Yes ! when with eyes flashing 

 fire, with my bosom swelling with indignation, I told them the 

 agony of my poor sister of my horrible imprecations on beholding 

 her lifeless dead dead for ever, they said, clapping their hands, 

 " what expression ! what action ! how admirably he could play 

 Othello !" Again, when I described to them my dreadful retri- 

 bution on the dishonourer of my sister, with all the fierce enthusiasm 

 of my race and clime, and almost delirious, I imagined I again grasped 

 the villain and stabbed him to the heart they said, " He is an ex- 

 traordinary man \ he would play Brutus excellently well." Then, 

 when they had witnessed the mental torture they imposed on me by 

 recalling my souvenirs of past events, they would retire with indif- 

 ference to dress for a ball return to their business or to various 

 pleasures ; for all was said the piece was played. Then I seemed to 

 awake as from a dream on finding myself with my friend only, who 

 was as proud of me as of a tamed tiger for exhibition !" 



" The wretches !" exclaimed Fasillo. 



" No, Fasillo ; these honest people sought amusement time hangs 

 heavily the day is so long and, besides, of what should I complain ? 

 They did not hiss me ; on the contrary, they applauded what 

 would'st thou ? My life has been my character ; for in that, as else- 

 where, all is character friendship, courage, virtue^ glory, devoted- 

 ness !" 



" Oh co mmandant," sighed Fasillo, bitterly, 



" All, boy, all ! even the pity of woman for misfortune. Listen : 

 I loved passionately a beautiful woman, young, rich, and brilliant. 

 One evening I slipped into her boudoir, and crouching behind a 

 splendid glass I awaited her arrival. Suddenly the door opened, and 

 she entered with a friend as lovely as herself. They spoke in confi- 

 dence, and as her friend envied her success, Eulalie replied thus 

 ' Do you suppose I love him ? No, countess, no ; but he astonishes 

 me, he melts my heart, he frightens me in fact, he amuses me. How 

 insipid are the lamentations of a hero of romance compared with his 

 despair ! for, dearest, when I make the poor fellow recount the events ' 

 of his past life, he really weeps, and would you believe it ? I am 

 quite moved,' added she, laughing aloud. 



" Dost thou see she favoured me to witness alternately my remorse, 

 my fury, my despair, my love ? I pity her, Fasillo but drink, my 

 poor boy so much for the hospitality of France of which thou 

 speakest. Now for ' La Liberte.' One morning my friend, the 

 captain, came to inform me my presence in Paris would no longer 

 be permitted, as the Spanish government had denounced me as a 

 communero, freemason, and plotter against the state ; that I was at 

 Paris for the purpose of carrying on intrigues in Spain ; and that, finally, 

 unless I quitted the capital within three days, I stood a good chance 

 of being arrested and conducted to the frontiers there thou knowest 

 what awaited me. Perceiving my embarrassment, my friend, who 



M.M. No. 108, 4 O 



