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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?

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