in the heavy rain, with an uneasy wind blowing PAR RAFALES off the
sea (or 'EN RAFALES' should it be? or what?). As I got down near
the beach a poor woman, oldish, and seemingly, lately at least,
respectable, followed me and made signs. She was drenched to the
skin, and looked wretched below wretchedness. You know, I did not
like to look back at her; it seemed as if she might misunderstand
and be terribly hurt and slighted; so I stood at the end of the
street - there was no one else within sight in the wet - and lifted
up my hand very high with some money in it. I heard her steps draw
heavily near behind me, and, when she was near enough to see, I let
the money fall in the mud and went off at my best walk without ever
turning round. There is nothing in the story; and yet you will
understand how much there is, if one chose to set it forth. You
see, she was so ugly; and you know there is something terribly,
miserably pathetic in a certain smile, a certain sodden aspect of
invitation on such faces. It is so terrible, that it is in a way
sacred; it means the outside of degradation and (what is worst of
all in life) false position. I hope you understand me rightly. -
Ever your faithful friend,

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.



Letter: TO MRS. SITWELL



[EDINBURGH], TUESDAY, OCTOBER 14, 1873.