One misfortune more or less matters little in a life which has been a chain of heavy blows of Fate.

I buried three sons in the prime of manhood, and two have been slain in battle.

Barine, the joy of my heart, I myself, fool that I was, bound to the scoundrel who blasted her joyous existence; and now that I believed she would be protected from trouble and misconstruction by the side of a worthy husband, these infamous rascals, whose birth protects them from vengeance, have wounded, perhaps killed her betrothed lover.

They trample in the dust her fair name and my white hair!--Phryx, my hat and staff." The storm had long been raging around the house, which stood close by the sea, and the sailcloth awning which was stretched over the impluvium noisily rattled the metal rings that confined it.

Now so violent a gust swept from room to room that two of the flames in the three-branched lamp went out.