and giving a hideously distorted
and unnatural appearance to that feature. The man's frame was bony and
powerful; the loose sheepskin jacket he wore was thrown open, and
through the imperfectly fastened shirt-front, it might be seen that his
breast was covered with a thick felt of matted hair.

It was the moment of the short twilight that in the south of France
intervenes between day and night. The Carlists had reached the upper end
of the walk, and, turning round, began to descend it again three
abreast, and with the man who has been particularly described in the
centre. On a sudden the latter stopped short, as though petrified where
he stood. His countenance, naturally sallow, became pale as ashes, and,
as if to save himself from falling, he clutched the arm of one of his
companions with a force that made him wince again, while he gazed with
distended eyeballs on a man who had halted within half-a-dozen paces of
the Spaniards. The person whose aspect produced this Medusa-like effect
upon the Carlist was a man about thirty years of age, plainly but
elegantly dressed, and of a prepossessing but somewhat sickly
countenance, the lines of which were now working under the influence of
some violent emotion. The only peculiarity in his appearance was a black
silk band which, passing under his chin, was brought up on both sides of
the head, and fastened on the crown under the hat.

"_Que tienes, Sangrador_? What ails thee, man?" enquired the Carlists of
their terror-stricken companion, addressing him by a _nom-de-guerre_
that he doubtless owed to his bloody deeds or disposition. At that
moment the stranger sprang like a bloodhound into the centre of the
group. In an instant El Sangrador was on the ground, his assailant's
knee upon his breast, and his throat compressed by two nervous hands,
which bade fair to perform the office of a bowstring on the prostrate
man. All this had passed in far less time than is required to narrate
it, and the astonishment of the Carlists at their comrade's terror and
this sudden attack, was such, that, although men of action and energy,
they were for a moment paralysed, and thought not of rescuing their
friend from the iron gripe in which he was held. Already his eyes were
bloodshot, his face purple, and his tongue protruding from his mouth,
when a gendarme came up, and aided by half-a-dozen of those agents who,
in plain clothes, half-spy and half-policeman, are to be found in every
place of publ