He was a very excellent
friend of ours--I refer as usual to B. and myself--and from the day of
his arrival until the day of his departure to Precigne along with B. and
three others I never ceased to like and to admire him. He was naturally
sensitive, extremely the antithesis of coarse (which "refined" somehow
does not imply) had not in the least suffered from a "good," as we say,
education, and possessed an at once frank and unobstreperous personality.
Very little that had happened to Pete's physique had escaped Pete's mind.
This mind of his quietly and firmly had expanded in proportion as its
owner's trousers had become too big around the waist--altogether not so
extraordinary as was the fact that, after being physically transformed as
I have never seen a human being transformed by food and friends, Pete
thought and acted with exactly the same quietness and firmness as before.
He was a rare spirit, and I salute him wherever he is.
Mexique was a good friend of Pete's, as he was of ours. He had been
introduced to us by a man we called One Eyed David, who was married and
had a wife downstairs, with which wife he was allowed to live all
day--being conducted to and from her society by a _planton_. He spoke
Spanish well and French passably; had black hair, bright Jewish eyes, a
dead-fish expression, and a both amiable and courteous disposition.
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