"Here, Monsieur le Comte," said he, "you had better leave us. That path will take you into the high road to Barcelona, whither, if I might advise, you would make all possible speed. My way is towards those towers, where my poor Catelina's brother lies in bonds. What may come of it, I do not know; but either this night shall see him once more a freeman, or my head shall lie lower than it ever yet has done. Farewell, Monsieur le Comte! I doubt not we shall meet again. Do not forget me till then: and ever believe that a warm and grateful heart, however rude, may dwell in the bosom even of a Spanish smuggler; and that if this arm, or this sword, ever can serve you, you may command it. Are you too proud to accept that horse you ride, as a present from one who is under many a debt of gratitude to your house?" I hardly know what it was, for there was certainly very little in his words to change the angry feelings with which I had regarded him a moment before; but the manner wherewith a thing is said, more than the thing itself, has often the power to let us into the dark council-chamber of man's bosom, and show us the motives which govern his actions. Gleaming through the very coldness of Garcias' demeanour, I saw the wish to act towards me in the kindest and most grateful manner, only overpowered by the excitement of his own circumstances; and I instantly made those allowances which I should have done at first. "I will accept it, Garcias, with pleasure," replied I, "because I hope hereafter to repay it, with other debts to you, in a way that I have not now the means of doing." A word or two more passed, and then, bidding him adieu, I rode along the path he pointed out, followed by Achilles Lefranc, and soon reached the highroad of which he had spoken. Here my poor little companion, who had hitherto smothered the torments of St. Bartholomew rather than risk being left behind, found it impossible to contain his expostulations any longer. "Monseigneur," said he, in a tone which mingled the doleful and the theatrical in a very ludicrous degree, "God knows that I am willing to follow on your steps to the last grain of my sand, to serve you with my best service to my last breath--but indeed! indeed! it must be on foot. Horseback becomes me not--I am already worn to the bone! So help me Heaven! as I would rather ride a grindstone by the hour together, than the stiff ridge of this hard-backed charger! Consider, my lord, consider, that my business has ever been on foot; and that never but once before did I venture to cast my legs across that iron-spined beast called a horse. At least, in pity, give me half an hour's repose at the first cottage we pass, for I can get no farther!"