demeanor, and promptly dropped Senor Henarez.

All the same, my dear, there is something fine in this rejection of
any aid. "He would not accept even our friendship," I reflected,
whilst conjugating a verb. Suddenly I stopped short and told him what
was in my mind, but in Spanish. Henarez replied very politely that
equality of sentiment was necessary between friends, which did not
exist in this case, and therefore it was useless to consider the
question.

"Do you mean equality in the amount of feeling on either side, or
equality in rank?" I persisted, determined to shake him out of this
provoking gravity.

He raised once more those awe-inspiring eyes, and mine fell before
them. Dear, this man is a hopeless enigma. He seemed to ask whether my
words meant love; and the mixture of joy, pride, and agonized doubt in
his glance went to my heart. It was plain that advances, which would
be taken for what they were worth in France, might land me in
difficulties with a Spaniard, and I drew back into my shell, feeling
not a little foolish.

The lesson over, he bowed, and his eyes were eloquent of the humble
prayer: "Don't trifle with a poor wretch."

This sudden contrast to his usual grave and dignified manner made a
great impression on me. It seems horrible to think and to say, but I
can't help believing that there are treasures of affection in that
man.