He laughed slightly and looked at me with a strange, keen glitter in his eyes; then, taking my hand, he gave it a powerful grip. “No, no, my friend, I am not going to trouble you to do anything for me,” he said. “I have the devil's temper, and to-day, in a moment of rage, I insulted you. It therefore surprised me when you came here and spoke kindly to me. I desired to know whether that feeling was only on the surface; since the men one meets with are often like horned cattle. When one falls, his companions of the pasture-ground remember only his past offences, and make haste to gore him.” His manner surprised me; he did not now seem like the Marcos Marcó I had travelled with that day. Touched with his words, I sat down on the stocks facing him, and begged him to tell me what I could do for him. “Well, friend,” said he, “you see the stocks are fastened with a padlock. If you will get the key, and take me out, I will sleep well; then in the morning, before the old one-eyed lunatic is up, you can come and turn the key in the lock again. Nobody will be the wiser.” “And you are not thinking of escaping?” I said. “I have not even the faintest wish to escape,” he replied. “You could not escape if you did,” I said, “for the room would be locked, of course. But if I were disposed to do what you ask, how could I get the key?” “That is an easy matter,” said Marcos. “Ask the good señora to let you have it. Did I not notice her eyes dwelling lovingly on your face--for, doubtless, you reminded her of some absent relative, a favourite nephew, perhaps. She would not deny you anything in reason; and a kindness, friend, even to the poorest man, is never thrown away.” “I will think about it,” I said, and shortly after that I left him. It was a sultry evening, and, the close, smoky atmosphere of the kitchen becoming unendurable, I went out and sat down on a log of wood out of doors. Here the old Juez, in his character of amiable host, came and discoursed for half an hour on lofty matters relating to the republic. Presently his wife came out, and, declaring that the evening air would have an injurious effect on his inflamed eye, persuaded him to go indoors. Then she subsided into a place at my side, and began to talk about Fernando's dreadful temper and the many cares of her life. “What a very serious young man you are!” she remarked, changing her tone somewhat abruptly. “Do you keep all your gay and pleasant speeches for the young and pretty señoritas?” “Ah, señora, you are yourself young and beautiful in my eyes,” I replied; “but I have no heart to be gay when my poor fellow-traveller is fastened in the stocks, where your cruel husband would also have confined me but for your timely intervention. You are so kind-hearted, cannot you have his poor tired legs taken out in order that he may also rest properly to-night?”