ace and this
boy was her last hope. No doubt she feels that fate is hard upon her.
Pedro," to the old man who looked on compassionately, "tell her it will
all come right in the end. Stay; quietly whisper to her to come to my
office to-morrow morning at ten and ask for me. I will promise to keep a
special eye upon that boy of hers. He is of finer mould and deserves a
better fate than many. I will see that he has it."

Pedro looked his gratitude, thought there was only one colonel in the
world, and he stood before him. To be strong and merciful is to win
hearts.

"There is more interest for me in this little crowd than in all your
ecclesiastical outlines," said the colonel. "I never saw a building that
I did not tire of in a week, but my work and my men interest me more
year by year. I feel I have something to live for."

He was small and wiry, this colonel, with piercing dark eyes and a mouth
of which a fierce moustache could not conceal the kindliness. One wished
him a finer body of men than these recruits, too many of whom were of
the lowest type and had not, to use his own metaphor, even the inch of
wood that would bear carving.

"That need not greatly trouble you," he said. "It is surprising how many
are the exceptions. After all, it is a survival of the fittest. But I
see you are interested in humanity just as much as I am," noting how we
followed every movement and expression of this pathetic little crowd.
"So far your resources are wider than mine, for when on the subject of
old buildings you are as absorbed as in front of this little drama. My
interests are more restricted. Well then, if you like to come to my
office to-morrow morning at ten you shall have more food for your
sympathies. We will interview that poor woman together and see how far
we can minister consolation to the widow and fatherless."

This was not one's idea of severe military discipline, but we could not
help admiring a nature that after years of experience and repeated
discouragements--in spite of what he had said--still possessed so warm a
heart, so much of human faith. No doubt he had shown a little of his
true self on the spur of the moment, influenced by the above incidents.
All his kindliness of feeling was kept well out of sight of others. The
next instant he had passed beyond the sentry and was holding forth in
tones hard as the Pyramids, cold as the Sphinx.

CHAPTER VI.

ANSELMO THE PRIEST.

Beauties of age--Apostl