over-grown cross
between a sailor and peddler, known and feared under the name of Peter
"Rudderless," to say nothing of the fair Abelone. She, however, recently
has had to give way to a brunette, belonging to a troupe of mountebanks,
which for some time has favored us with performances of feats of
strength and rope-dancing. You have seen this kind of women with
sharp, yellow, prematurely-aged faces, creatures that are shattered by
brutality, poverty, and miserable vices, and who always over-dress in
shabby velvet and dirty red. There you have his crew. I don't understand
our friend's passion. It is true that his fiancee met with a horrible
death, but that does not explain the matter. I must still tell you how
he left us. We had a fair a few miles from here. He, "Rudderless," the
horse-dealer, and the woman sat in a drinking-tent, dissipating until
far into the night. At three o'clock or thereabouts they were at last
ready to leave. They got on the wagon, and so far everything went all
right; but then our mutual friend turns off from the main road and
drives with them over fields and heath, as fast as the horses can go.
The wagon is flung from one side to the other. Finally things get too
wild for the horse-dealer and he yells that he wants to get down. After
he has gotten off our mutual friend whips up the horses again, and
drives straight at a large heather-covered hill. The woman becomes
frightened and jumps off, and now up the hill they go and down on the
other side at such a terrific pace that it is a miracle the wagon did
not arrive at the bottom ahead of the horses. On the way up Peter had
slipped from the wagon, and as thanks for the ride he threw his big
clasp-knife at the head of the driver.'"

"The poor fellow, but this business of the woman is nasty."

"Disgusting, madam, decidedly disgusting. Do you really think, Mr.
Ronholt, that this description puts the man in a better light?"

"No, but in a surer one; you know in the darkness things often seem
larger than they are."

"Can you think of anything worse?"

"If not, then this is the worst, but you know one should never think the
worst of people."

"Then you really mean, that the whole affair is not so bad, that there
is something bold in it, something in a sense eminently plebeian, which
pleases your liking for democracy."

"Don't you see, that in respect to his environment his conduct is quite
aristocratic?"

"Aristocratic? No, that is lather para