He was very tall and noble-looking, dressed in rich garments of velvet adorned by a gold chain that hung about his neck, and as I judged about forty years of age. But it was his face which chiefly caught my eye, for at that moment there was something terrible about it. It was long, thin, and deeply carved; the eyes were large, and gleamed like gold in sunlight; the mouth was small and well shaped, but it wore a devilish and cruel sneer; the forehead lofty, indicating a man of mind, and marked with a slight scar. For the rest the cavalier was dark and southern-looking, his curling hair, like my own, was black, and he wore a peaked chestnut-coloured beard. By the time that I had finished these observations my feet had brought me almost to the stranger’s side, and for the first time he caught sight of me. Instantly his face changed, the sneer left it, and it became kindly and pleasant looking. Lifting his bonnet with much courtesy he stammered something in broken English, of which all that I could catch was the word Yarmouth; then perceiving that I did not understand him, he cursed the English tongue and all those who spoke it, aloud and in good Castilian. “If the señor will graciously express his wish in Spanish,” I said, speaking in that language, “it may be in my power to help him.” “What! you speak Spanish, young sir,” he said, starting, “and yet you are not a Spaniard, though by your face you well might be. Caramba! but it is strange!” and he eyed me curiously. “It may be strange, sir,” I answered, “but I am in haste. Be pleased to ask your question and let me go.” “Ah!” he said, “perhaps I can guess the reason of your hurry. I saw a white robe down by the streamlet yonder,” and he nodded towards the park. “Take the advice of an older man, young sir, and be careful. Make what sport you will with such, but never believe them and never marry them—lest you should live to desire to kill them!” Here I made as though I would pass on, but he spoke again. “Pardon my words, they were well meant, and perhaps you may come to learn their truth. I will detain you no more. Will you graciously direct me on my road to Yarmouth, for I am not sure of it, having ridden by another way, and your English country is so full of trees that a man cannot see a mile?” I walked a dozen paces down the bridle-path that joined the road at this place, and pointed out the way that he should go, past Ditchingham church. As I did so I noticed that while I spoke the stranger was watching my face keenly and, as it seemed to me, with an inward fear which he strove to master and could not. When I had finished again he raised his bonnet and thanked me, saying, “Will you be so gracious as to tell me your name, young Sir?” “What is my name to you?” I answered roughly, for I disliked this man. “You have not told me yours.”