Part 1 (2/2)

Many years ago I was stationed as doctor in a tiny Basque town, in Cestona. Sometimes, in summer, while going on my rounds among the villages I used to meet on the highway and on the cross-roads pa.s.sersby of a miserable aspect, persons with liver-complaint who were taking the waters at the neighbouring cure.

These people, with their leather-coloured skin, did not arouse any curiosity or interest in me. The middle-cla.s.s merchant or clerk from the big towns is repugnant to me, whether well or ill. I would exchange a curt salute with those liverish parties and go my way on my old nag.

One afternoon I was sitting in a wild part of the mountain, among big birch-trees, when a pair of strangers approached the spot where I was. They were not of the jaundiced and disagreeable type of the valetudinarians. He was a lanky young man, smooth-shaven, grave, and melancholy; she, a blond woman, most beautiful.

She was dressed in white and wore a straw hat with large flowers; she had a refined and gracious manner, eyes of blue, a very dark blue, and flame-coloured hair.

I surmised that they were a young married couple; but he seemed too indifferent to be the husband of so pretty a woman. In any event, they were not recently wed.

He bowed to me, and then said to his companion:

”Shall we sit down here?”

”Very well.”

They seated themselves on the half-rotten trunk of a tree.

”Are you on a trip?” he asked me, noticing my horse fastened to a branch.

”Yes. I am coming back from a visit.”

”Ah! Are you the town doctor?”

”Yes.”

”And do you live here, in Cestona?”

”Yes, I live here.”

”Alone?”

”Quite alone.”

”In an hotel?”

”No; in that house there down the road. Behold my house; that is it.”

”It must be hard to live among so many invalids!” he exclaimed.

”Why?” she asked. ”This gentleman may not have the same ideas as you.”

”I believe I have. To my mind, he is right. It is very hard to live here.”

”You can have n.o.body to talk to. That's evident.”

”Absolutely n.o.body. Just imagine; there is not a Liberal in the town; there are nothing but Carlists and Integrists.”

<script>