"And if it were, Mercedes, poor and lone as you are, you
suit me as well as the daughter of the first shipowner or
the richest banker of Marseilles! What do such as we desire
but a good wife and careful housekeeper, and where can I
look for these better than in you?"

"Fernand," answered Mercedes, shaking her head, "a woman
becomes a bad manager, and who shall say she will remain an
honest woman, when she loves another man better than her
husband? Rest content with my friendship, for I say once
more that is all I can promise, and I will promise no more
than I can bestow."

"I understand," replied Fernand, "you can endure your own
wretchedness patiently, but you are afraid to share mine.
Well, Mercedes, beloved by you, I would tempt fortune; you
would bring me good luck, and I should become rich. I could
extend my occupation as a fisherman, might get a place as
clerk in a warehouse, and become in time a dealer myself."

"You could do no such thing, Fernand; you are a soldier, and
if you remain at the Catalans it is because there is no war;
so remain a fisherman, and contented with my friendship, as
I cannot give you more."

"Well, I will do better, Mercedes. I will be a sailor;
instead of the costume of our fathers, which you despise, I
will wear a varnished hat, a striped shirt, and a blue
jacket, with an anchor on the buttons. Would not that dress
please you?"