“Not at all,” said I, “we are both fellow prisoners in a foreign land, and being so we ought to countenance each other.  I hope that whenever I have need of your co-operation in this prison you will afford it me.”

“Ah, Monsieur,” exclaimed the Frenchman in rapture, “vous avez bien raison; il faut que les eirangers se donnent la main dans ce . . . pays de barbares.  Tenez,” he added, in a whisper, “if you have any plan for escaping, and require my assistance, I have an arm and a knife at your service:  you may trust me, and that is more than you could any of these sacres gens ici,” glancing fiercely round at his fellow prisoners.

“You appear to be no friend to Spain and the Spaniards,” said I.  “I conclude that you have experienced injustice at their hands.  For what have they immured you in this place?”

“Pour rien du tout, c’est a dire pour une bagatelle; but what can you expect from such animals?  For what are you imprisoned?  Did I not hear say for Gypsyism and sorcery?”

“Perhaps you are here for your opinions?”

“Ah, mon Dieu, non; je ne suis pas homme a semblable betise.  I have no opinions.  Je faisois . . . mais ce n’importe; je me trouve ici, ou je creve de faim.”

“I am sorry to see a brave man in such a distressed condition,” said I; “have you nothing to subsist upon beyond the prison allowance?  Have you no friends?”

“Friends in this country, you mock me; here one has no friends, unless one buy them.  I am bursting with hunger; since I have been here I have sold the clothes off my back, that I might eat, for the prison allowance will not support nature, and of half of that we are robbed by the Batu, as they call the barbarian of a governor.  Les haillons which now cover me were given by two or three devotees who sometimes visit here.  I would sell them if they would fetch aught.  I have not a sou, and for want of a few crowns I shall be garroted within a month unless I can escape, though, as I told you before, I have done nothing, a mere bagatelle; but the worst crimes in Spain are poverty and misery.”

“I have heard you speak Basque, are you from French Biscay?”

“I am from Bordeaux, Monsieur; but I have lived much on the Landes and in Biscay, travaillant a mon metier.  I see by your look that you wish to know my history.  I shall not tell it you.  It contains nothing that is remarkable.  See, I have smoked out your cigar; you may give me another, and add a dollar if you please, nous sommes creves ici de faim.  I would not say as much to a Spaniard, but I have a respect for your countrymen; I know much of them; I have met them at Maida and the other place.” {18}