throwing waves of its troubles upon the future. She was that saddest
of human beings, a victim of dual forces which so fought for mastery with
each other that, while the struggle went on, the soul had no firm
foothold anywhere. That, indeed, was why her Carvillho Gonzales, who
also had been dual in nature, said to himself so often, "I am a devil,"
and nearly as often, "I have the heart of an angel."

"Tell me all about your life, my friend," Jean Jacques said eagerly. Now
his eyes no longer hurried here and there, but fastened on hers and
stayed thereabouts--ah, her face surely was like pictures he had seen in
the Louvre that day when he had ambled through the aisles of great men's
glories with the feeling that he could not see too much for nothing in an
hour.

"My life? Ah, m'sieu', has not my father told you of it?" she asked.

He waved a hand in explanation, he cocked his head quizzically. "Scraps
--like the buttons on a coat here and there--that's all," he answered.
"Born in Andalusia, lived in Cadiz, plenty of money, a beautiful home,"
--Carmen's eyes drooped, and her face flushed slightly--"no brothers or
sisters--visits to Madrid on political business--you at school--then the
going of your mother, and you at home at the head of the house. So much
on the young shoulders, the kitchen, the parlour, the market, the shop,
society--and so on. That is the way it was, so he said, except in the
last sad times, when your father, for the sake of Don Carlos and his
rights, near lost his life--ah, I can understand that: to stand by the
thing you have sworn to! France is a republic, but I would give my life
to put a Napoleon or a Bourbon on the throne. It is my hobby to stand by
the old ship, not sign on to a new captain every port."