"Well, I sold the farm on which I was born, every field of which I loved, and with a light heart went up to Paris. They call Paris a gay city! I found it a cruel one! I had no idea how to set about making a living there, and gradually my little stock of money dwindled away until it was nearly all gone. But I would succeed, I swore, for was not Marie waiting for me? At last, in despair, I turned blacksmith; I worked night and day until my cheeks lost their colour, and I began to stoop. But I got on very well, and at last I got a forge for myself and took a little house and furnished it. Then I went down to my old home, happy and exultant, to fetch Marie. I went to her house and saw her, but when I would have embraced her she drew back as though she had forgotten me. I was pained, but I thought that she was playing with me, and I commenced to tell her my story, and all that I had done, and how I had worked for her sake, and about the house I had furnished. And when I had told her everything, what do you think she did? She burst out laughing in my face. 'The idea of her marrying a blacksmith!' she exclaimed, tossing her pretty little head. 'It was ridiculous.' Besides, she had changed her mind about living in Paris. I had better get some one else to go and live with me in the house I had furnished; and when I commenced to plead to her, she shut the door in my face. Next week she was married to the man to whom I had sold my farm. Does monsieur wonder that I, too, detest the cities, and love best the country?" I looked up at him sympathisingly, for though he had told his story lightly, there was a deep vein of sadness underlying his assumed manner, and his dark eyes had a sorrowful look. "Perhaps it was as well for you that you didn't marry her," I remarked. "She must have been a heartless coquette." He shrugged his shoulders. "If our love came from our head, that would be very good consolation. I wish messieurs a very good night," he added, bowing. Then he turned somewhat abruptly upon his heel and walked away to his tent. One by one the men around us left the central group, and, curling themselves up in their cloaks, threw themselves down to sleep--some inside their tents, some on the threshold, and others where they had been sitting. The golden moon had risen high above the gleaming, sparkling surface of the still sea and shone down upon the strange little scene with a full, soft light. I looked round at the slumbering forms of the brigands in the fantastic dress, and at the dark cypress-trees which stood out in strange shapes against the clear, star-bespangled sky. I watched the fire-flies around the aloe hedge, until my eyes ached with following their erratic course. Then I thought of Maud--wondered whether she was at that moment waltzing with Lord Annerley in some heated London ballroom, wondered whether she ever thought of me, whether she knew that I loved her!