"Let be," said I to myself, turning away, "let be. I am as I am, and shall be henceforth in very truth a village blacksmith—and content so to be—absolutely content."
At sight of me Charmian burst out laughing, the which, though I had expected it, angered me nevertheless.
"Why, Peter!" she exclaimed, "you look like—"
"A very low fellow!" said I, "say a village blacksmith who has been at his ablutions."
"If you only had rings in your ears, and a scarf round your head, you would be the image of a Spanish brigand—or like the man Mina whose exploits The Gazette is full of—a Spanish general, I think."
"A guerrilla leader," said I, taking my place at the table, "and a singularly cold-blooded villain—indeed I think it probable that we much resemble one another; is it any wonder that I am shunned by my kind—avoided by the ignorant and regarded askance by the rest?"
"Why, Peter!" said Charmian, regarding me with grave eyes, "what do you mean?"
"I mean that the country folk hereabout go out of their way to avoid crossing my path—not that, I suppose, they ever heard of Mina, but because of my looks."
"Your looks?"
"They think me possessed of the 'Evil Eye' or some such folly—may I cut you a piece of bread?"