attached to her waist.
The entry of a man did not appear to move her in the least.

"Ha! La moza,--[girl]--get up and give me something to drink. I am tired
and thirsty."

The young girl did not answer, and, without raising her eyes, continued
to spin assiduously.

"Dost hear?" said the stranger, thrusting her with his foot. "Go and tell
thy master that a friend wishes to see him; but first give me some drink.
I shall sleep here."

She answered, in a hoarse voice, still spinning:

"I drink the snow that melts on the rock, or the green scum that floats
on the water of the swamp. But when I have spun well, they give me water
from the iron spring. When I sleep, the cold lizards crawl over my face;
but when I have well cleaned a mule, they throw me hay. The hay is warm;
the hay is good and warm. I put it under my marble feet."

"What tale art thou telling me?" said Jacques. "I spoke not of thee."

She continued:

"They make me hold a man while they kill him. Oh, what blood I have had
on my hands! God forgive them!--if that be possible. They make me hold
his head, and the bucket filled with crimson water. O Heaven!--I, who was
the bride of God! They throw their bodies into the abyss of snow; but the
vulture finds them; he lines his nest with their hair. I now see thee
full of life; I shall see thee bloody, pale, and dead."

The adventurer, shrugging his shoulders, began to whistle as he passed
the second door. Within he found the man he had seen through the chinks
of the cabin. He wore the blue berret cap of the Basques on one side,
and, enveloped in an ample cloak, seated on the pack-saddle of a mule,
and bending over a large brazier, smoked a cigar, and from time to time
drank from a leather bottle at his side. The light of the brazier showed
his full yellow face, as well as the chamber, in which mule-saddles were
ranged round the byasero as seats. He raised his head without altering
his position.

"Oh, oh! is it thou, Jacques?" he said. "Is it thou? Although 'tis four
years since I saw thee, I recognize thee. Thou art not changed, brigand!
There 'tis still, thy great knave's face. Sit down there, and take a
drink."

"Yes, here I am. But how the devil camest thou here? I thought thou wert
a judge, Houmain!"

"And I thought thou wert a Spanish captain, Jacques!"

"Ah! I was so for a time, and then a prisoner. But I got out of the thing
very snugly, and have taken again to the old trade, the free life, the