"An old maid, a sort of duenna, who had worn linen of Brittany for many years, had no objection to me on that score. You understand my object in coming here was to get a young, rich, and beautiful wife. Had the duenna been rich, for my mother's sake I would have married her, but she was neither rich nor young, and had never been pretty."
"'Tis a thousand pities," said I; "you are half a century behind, Señor Don Jaime. Fifty years ago every chance would have been in favor of a cavalier of your figure and appearance. Now I am afraid that time is past."
An almost imperceptible smile broke upon the lips of the Biscayan, but I could not guess whether it was caused by the compliment I had paid him, or pity for the incredulity I had manifested.
"Since you are in the indulgent vein, and I in the indiscreet one, Señor Don Jaime, allow me to ask you this last question Have you supped to-night?"
The brow of the Spaniard lowered. I feared I had abused rights acquired on such a slender acquaintance as mine; but his noble self-respect never gave way. He was, besides, too much of a gentleman to blush because he was poor.
"I have," replied he, with a gracious smile. "May I have the honor of offering you a portion of my supper?"
The Spaniard tendered me a cigarette.
"What! was that all your supper?"
"A cigarette! fie on it; it is, in truth, somewhat too meagre a repast for the last descendant of the Counts of Biscay. I have consumed more than a dozen of them, and have not made a very good supper."
This seemed to have exhausted the patience of the
