THE PRETTY SISTER OF JOSÉ

By Frances Hodgson Burnett

Charles Scribner's Sons - 1889

THE PRETTY SISTER OF JOSÉ

CHAPTER I. 

It had taken him a long time, and it had cost him--José--much hardlabor, to prepare for his aged grandmother and Pepita the tiny homeoutside Madrid, to which he at last brought them in great triumph onehot summer's day, when the very vine-leaves and orange-trees themselveswere dusty. It had been a great undertaking for him in the firstplace, for he was a slow fellow--José; slow as he was dull and kind andfaithful to Pepita and the grandmother. He had a body as big as an ox, and a heart as big as his body, but he was slow and dull in everythingbut one thing--that was his carpenter work. He was well enough at that, and more than well enough, for he had always had a fancy and a knack forit from the time when as a boy he had worked in his uncle's vineyardsand tilled his fields and fed his beasts. His uncle had been counted arich man among his neighbors, but when his sister and her husband diedand left the two children, José and Pepita, penniless, and with noprotector save himself and their grandmother, already an old woman, itwas upon the grandmother that the burden fell, for he did nothing forthem except to give them, grudgingly now and then, a few poor vegetablesor a little fallen fruit. It is true that when José was old enough tolabor in the fields he gave him work to do, but he paid him ill andtreated him ill also, giving him poor food and harsh words, and oftenenough blows the poor lad did not deserve. So it came about that whilehe was at his work José fell into the way of planning to escape from allthis, and make another home for himself and his pretty child-sisterand the old woman. He knew there was only one way to do it: if he couldcarry his one gift where it would be of more use to him than it couldpossibly be in a poor small village; if he could carry it to a marketwhere there were more people and where work was better paid for. Wherethe king and queen were, of course, there must be more money, and onecould find more to do and live better. It was Padre Alejandro, thevillage priest, who had suggested this to him first. He was a kind, jovial old fellow, the padre, and had seen something of the world, too, long ago, which was perhaps why he was never very hard upon a simplesinner who went to confession, and could give a bit of unecclesiasticaladvice now and then. He had always been kind to José, and as Pepita hadgrown prettier and prettier every day, he had often spoken of her to oldJovita, and said she should be well taught and taken care of, and onceeven--when she had come into the house with a basket of grapes on herlittle head, rose-flushed with the hot day, her black hair curlingin moist silken rings on her forehead--he had been betrayed into theworldly remark that such pretty young things ought to have somethingbrighter to look forward to than hard work and scant fare, which madethem old before their time, and left them nothing to look back upon. But he only said it to Jovita, and Jovita only stared a little, it neverhaving occurred to her that there was anything much in the world buthard labor and poverty. And what difference did it make that one waspretty, except that it became more probable that some gay, lazy fellowwould pretend to fall in love with one, and then after marriage leaveone all the work to do and a houseful of hungry children to feed? Shehad seen that often enough. Had it not been so with Pepita's mother, whodied at twenty-five almost an old woman, worn out with trouble and hardusage?

But afterward, when Padre Alejandro saw José, he spoke of Pepita to himalso, though only as if incidentally among other things. 

"She should marry some good fellow who could take care of her, " he said. "If you go to Madrid it will also be better for her. "

And so the end of it all was that after much slow planning and manyhopes and fears, and more than one disappointment, there came a day whenthe uncle was thrown into a violent rage by losing his best and mostpatient worker, and the poor cottage stood empty, and José and Pepitaand Jovita found themselves in a new world. 

What a new world it seemed to them all! Through the help of PadreAlejandro and an old friend of his, José had work bringing him pay whichappeared absolute wealth to him. The cottage, with its good walls androof, its neat rooms and garden, being compared with the mere hut theyhad left behind, seemed a palace. For the first few days, indeed, Jovitawas scarce at ease; to feel no necessity for heavy labor, to have foodenough, to be so comfortable, seemed unnatural, as if it might finallybring disaster. But it was not so with Pepita. All the joy of youth, allits delights and expectations filled her heart. To be so near the great, grand city, to look forward to seeing all its splendors, to walk in itsstreets, to share in the amusements she had heard of--this was rapture. If she had been pretty before, she became now ten times prettier; herlovely eyes grew larger with laughter and wonder and joy; her lightfeet almost danced; her color was like that of a damask rose. Each daybrought new innocent happiness to her. When José came home from his workat night, she sat by his side and asked him a thousand questions. Had heseen the palace--had he seen the king or the queen--what were the peopledoing--were the public gardens beautiful?

[Illustration: And then she would take the guitar 010]

And then she would take the guitar, which had belonged to her gay fatherin his gayest days, and sit out in the little garden, among the vinesand lemon-trees and oleanders, and play and sing one song after another, while José smoked and rested, and wondered at and delighted in her. Itwas she who had inherited all her father's gayety and spirit. José hadnone of them, and, being slow and simple, had always found her a wonderand a strange pleasure. She had, indeed, been the one bright thing inhis life, and even her wilfulness had a charm for him. He always gaveway to it and was content. Had she not even once defied the uncle whenno one else would have dared to do it? holding her little head up andconfronting him in such a burst of pretty rage that the old curmudgeonhad been quite quelled for once in his life, and had ever afterwardtreated her with a kind of respect, even saying to a neighbor that "thelad was a fool, but the little devil had something in her, after all. "

In all his plannings it was Pepita José had thought of first. Madridto him was only a sort of setting for Pepita; the clean, comfortablecottage a home for Pepita; the roses and lemon blossoms she would wearin her hair; under the fine grape-vines she would sit in the evening andplay on her guitar. His wages would give her comfort and buy her prettysimple dresses. And then every one would see her beauty, and when shewent to mass, or with himself and Jovita to the Prado or the Paseo dela Virgen del Puerto, people would look at her and tell each otherhow pretty she was, and all this would end in time in a good marriageperhaps. And she would be loved by some nice fellow, and have a homeof her own, and be as happy as the day was long. There was onlyone obstacle in the way of this excellent plan; it was only a smallobstacle, but--it was Pepita herself! Singularly enough, Pepita had afixed antipathy to marriage. She had early announced her intention ofremaining unmarried, and those young men who in her native villagehad desired to make love to her had been treated with disapprovaland disdain. Knowing as little of love as a young bird unfledged, hercoldness was full of innocent cruelty. She made no effort to soften anysituation. She was willing to dance and laugh and sing, but when shefound herself confronting lover-like tremors and emotion, she wasunsparing candor itself. 

"Why should I listen to you?" she had said more than once. "I do notlove you. You do not please me. When you wish to marry me, I hate you. Go away, and speak to some one else. "

"I will never marry any one, " she said to José. "I will stay with youand be happy. Girls who marry grow ugly and are wretched. Their husbandsdo not love them after they are married. They must work and slave andtake care of the house and the children. Look at Tessa! Her husband usedto be wild about her. She could make him pale with misery if she turnedaway from him; he used to follow her about everywhere. Now he makes eyesat Juanita, and beats Tessa if she complains. And don't we both rememberhow it was with our mother? I will never love any one, and never bemarried. Let them love me if they are so stupid, but I will be leftalone. I care nothing for any of them. "

The truth is that José knew it was what she remembered of her mother'sunhappiness and what Jovita had told her, which was the foundation ofall this. Did he not remember it himself, and remember, with a shudder, those first miserable years of their childhood--the great, beautiful, wretched eyes of their mother, their gay, handsome father, and hiscareless cruelty and frequent brutality? Had not Pepita and himselfclung together hidden in the loft at night, listening to their mother'ssobs, and often to the sound of blows and curses rained down upon herbecause she was no longer a beauty, and there were beauties who hadsmiles to bestow on handsome fellows who were free, and even upon thosewho were not? It was enough to irritate any handsome fellow--this onehad thought--to come home to a squalid place after enjoyment, andbe forced to face poverty and children and a haggard wife with largestaring eyes, red with weeping. Yes, Pepita and José remembered allthis, and upon Pepita's character it had left curious traces. Young asshe was, she had awakened quite grand passions in more than one heart, and on two or three occasions the suitors had been of far better fortunethan herself--one of them, indeed, being the only son of a rich farmer, who might have chosen a wife of much greater importance than thispretty, scornful child, and whose family rebelled bitterly againsthis folly, and at last sent him away to Seville, but not before Pepitaherself had coolly trodden him under her small feet. 

"I like you less than any of them, " she said, fixing her great, directeyes upon him when he revealed his frenzy. "Go and marry that girl yourfather chose for you--if she will have you. They have no need to beafraid and speak ill of me. I don't want you. I can't bear to have youstand near me. "

To José it never occurred to complain of her, but Jovita's sense ofworldly advantage was outraged at this time, and she did not hesitate toexpress herself with much freedom and grumbling. 

"God knows, I want no haste, " she said; "but this is a chance for anygirl. And see what a fool she is. But that is as it always happens. There will come along some worthless fellow, and she will be fooled likethe rest, and be ready enough to run after him. "

"I!" said Pepita, who stood in the doorway. "I!" And she opened her darkeyes in genuine anger and amazement. 

"Yes, you, " answered Jovita. "And you will be worse than any of them. Girls who think themselves too good to be spoken to are always easiestto coax when they find their match. Let him come, and you'll drop like aripe grape. "

"He will never come, " said Pepita. "Never!" And there was not a shade ofdoubt in her look--nothing but cold indignation at Jovita's ill-humor. "I am not afraid of men. They are all stupid. They think they can haveanything they want, and they can have nothing. They have to ask, and itis the girls who can say 'No;' and then they are miserable, and beg andbeg until one detests them. If any one said 'No' to me, I would not letthem see it hurt me. They should think I did not care. "

"You will not always say 'No, '" grumbled Jovita. "Wait till the day for'Yes' comes. You'll say it fast enough. That's the way with women. "

A bewitching little smile slowly curved Pepita's lips and crept into hereyes. 

"I am not a woman, " she said, looking out at the sun-warmed vineyards. "He said so himself. Felipe said, 'You are not a woman; you are a witch, and no one can touch your heart or conquer you. ' I will be a witch. "

Secretly she had liked those words better than any of the adoringpraises she had heard before. She liked the suggestion that she wasinvincible and safe from all danger--to be a witch--to be free from allthis disastrous folly--to be unconquerable. Yes, that pleased her. Itwas not her fault that they would fall in love with her. What did she doto them? Nothing. She never allowed them to come near her or touchher; she never gave them tender glances or words. She laughed and wasPepita--that was all. Then it was no fault of hers. 

And yet her little heart was warm enough. She loved José passionately;she loved Jo-vita; she loved little children and animals, and theyloved her in return; old men and women adored her because of her simple, almost childish kindness and her readiness to help those who needed heryoung strength and bright spirit. It was only men who made love who wereshown no mercy. She did not know that they needed mercy. She did notunderstand--that was all. It was as José had known it would be. When onthe first holiday be took her to the public gardens with Jovita, everyone who passed them gave her a second look; many turned to watch her;certainly there was not a man who did not glance over his shoulder atthe bewitching girlish figure with the small round waist, at the piquantradiant face, at the well-carried little head with the red rose bloomingin its cloud of soft black hair. 

[Illustration: Took her to the public gardens 035]

It was not long before two or three who were José's fellow-workmensought him out and greeted him with great warmth. They had, it appeared, a great deal to say and many attentions to lavish upon him. Such a finefellow, this José--such a good fellow--such a workman as was seldom seenin Madrid. And what a fine day for pleasure. And the Paseo de la Virgendel Puerto--there never were such gardens for sport. And all the timeeach one looked at Pepita, and lucky indeed was the man with mother andsisters to help him to make friends. And never had old Jovita met withsuch civilities, and encountered such deference. Pepita had the joy of ayoung bird in its first flight. The air of gayety enlivening everything, the people in their holiday clothes, the blue sky, the sunshine, thecheap simple pleasures of the day, were intoxicating delights to her. She made friends with the girls and their parents, and was even graciousto the young men who hung about José, and somehow seemed to find hisneighborhood more attractive than any other. It was from one of theseyoung men (his name was Manuel) she first heard of Sebastiano--the gay, the wonderful, the renowned Sebastiano. He had asked her, this Manuel, if she was going to the Plaza de Toros to see the bull-fight thefollowing week, and when she said she did not know--that she had neverseen a bull-fight--he found a great deal to say. He described thewonders of the great bull ring, where twelve thousand people could beaccommodated, and where grand and beautiful ladies richly dressedand surrounded by their lovers and husbands uttered cries of joy andexcitement as the fight became more dangerous, and both bulls andtoreadors showed greater courage and fire; he described the costumes, the music, the picadors dashing in upon their horses; the banderilleroswith their darts and ribbons; the matador with his reckless daring, his nerves and muscles of steel, and his lightning leaps. And then hedescribed Sebastiano. Never before, it appeared from his enthusiasm, had Madrid known such a matador as Sebastiano. Never one so handsome, so dashing, so universally adored. When he appeared in the ring, what aroar of applause went up. When he made his proud bow to the president, and said, "I go to slay this bull for the honor of the people of Madridand the most excellent president of this tourney, " and threw his hataway and moved forward, waving his scarlet cloak, what excitementthere was awakened. Songs were sung about him in the streets, fans wereornamented with pictures of his daring deeds, there were stories ofgreat ladies who had wept their eyes out for love of him, and as to thewomen of his own class, there was not a girl in Madrid who did not dreamof him. 

"Why?" said Pepita, in her cold, soft voice, and with the simply coldand curious look in her great, richly lashed eyes. 

"Because they are in love with him--all of them, " replied Manuel, sweepingly. 

"Why?" said Pepita, again. 

"' Why?'" Manuel echoed, somewhat bewildered by the frank, indifferentignoring of all natural reasons in this question--"'why?' Because he isso tall and strong and well made, because he is handsome, because heis more daring and graceful than any of the others--because he isSebastiano. "

Pepita laughed, and opened and shut her fan quickly. 

"Why do you laugh?" inquired Manuel. 

"I was thinking how he must despise them, " she answered. 

"Oh, no, " said Manuel, who was not very clever; "he is always good towomen. There was Sarita--a poor little thing who had always lived inthe country. She saw him at her first bull-fight and was never happyafterward. She could think of nothing else, and she was too innocent tohide it. She used to slip away from home and contrive to follow him whenhe did not see her. She found a woman who knew some one who knew him, and she gave her all her little savings in presents to bribe her to beher friend and talk to her about him. Once or twice she met him, andbecause she was such a pretty little one, he spoke kindly to her andpraised her eyes and her dancing. He did not know she was in love withhim. "

Pepita laughed again. 

"Why do you do that?" Manuel asked. 

"He knew, " said Pepita. "He would _think_ she was, even if she carednothing for him, and since she did care he would know before she did andwould be proud of it, and make it as much worse as he could. "

Manuel gazed at her a moment in silence, twirling his rather smallmustacha. This beautiful, cool, mocking little person, the meltingsoftness of whose eyes and lips should have promised such femininetenderness and emotion, bewildered him greatly; it was plain that shewas wholly unmoved by the glories of Sebastiano, and saw no glamour inhis romances. What other girl would have asked "Why?"--and in that tone?It was difficult to go on with his story. 

"He could not help it that she was in love with him, " he said. "And shecould not help it. "

"Why?" inquired Pepita for the third time, and with a prettier coolnessthan before. 

"Why, " stammered Manuel, "because--because that is the way with all ofthem. "

Pepita showed all her little gleaming teeth, and then put the stem of arose between them and held it there like a cigarette as she looked underher eyelashes at the people. The rose was not as red as her scornfullittle mouth. 

"He was always kind to her when he saw her, " continued Manuel. "Once hegave her his _devisa_. When she died she held it in her hand andwould not let it go. It was buried with her. She was a prettychild--Sarita--but she had always lived in the country and knewnothing. "

"I have always lived in the country and I know nothing, " said Pepita, mocking him with her great eyes; "but _I_ can help anything I choose. Itshould be the others who cannot help it. "

She thought him dull and tiresome, and soon wished he would go away, but he could not help it, and lingered about with all sorts of stupidexcuses. The more she bewildered him, the more he was fascinated. It wasalmost enough to stand and stare at her and hear her voice as she talkedto the others. How pretty she was--that girl--how she held her headas if she was some high-born lady instead of a peasant! When somepasser-by, more bold than the rest, made (loud enough to be heard) somecomment upon her beauty, it did not disturb her in the least--it was asif it were nothing to her. Was it possible that there could live a girlwho did not care that she was so pretty? But to imagine that she did notcare was to make a great mistake--she cared very much. Ever since shehad been a tiny child, her little mirror and the water of the fountainhad reflected back to her this pretty face, with its soft rose of cheekand mouth, its dark liquid eyes, and soft babyish rings of hair curlingon the forehead. She had always heard too that she was pretty, and asshe had grown older she had found out something else, namely, that shehad a power more strong and subtle than that of her beauty--a powerpeople did not even try to resist. She did not call it by any nameherself or understand it in the least. She often wondered at it, andeven sometimes had a childish secret terror lest the Evil One might havesomething to do with it; particularly when without making any effort, when simply standing apart and looking on at the rest, with a littlesmile she had drawn to her side the stupid love-making for which shecared nothing. It was not so with Dolores and Maria and Isabella, whowere pretty too. Somehow, handsome as they were, they must use theireyes on their lovers, they must laugh and dance and talk to be adored, while she need do nothing but be Pepita. 

When, late that evening, she sat with José under the vines, the airabout them heavy with jasmine and orange and lemon blossoms, she askeda great many questions about the bull-fight. It must be a grand thing tosee--so many people, such gay colors, such music. José could describe itbetter than Manuel. He must tell her all about it. 

He described it as well as he could, and in spite of his slow speechmade quite an exciting picture for her; or rather she found it exciting, as she found all things just now in their novelty. Before Jovita and shehad arrived, while he was making his small preparations for them, hehad seen a bull-fight or so, and no point of detail had escaped hisdeliberate mind. He always remembered things--José. 

"But you shall go, " he said; "you shall go and see for yourself the verynext time. It comes next week. We will go and take Jovita. "

Pepita clapped her hands for joy. She sprang up and danced a few stepsin her childish delight. 

"That will be happiness, " she said. "What happiness! Perhaps the kingand queen will be there!"

"You will see Sebastiano, " said José, seriously. 

"I do not care for Sebastiano, " cried Pepita, petulantly. 

"You do not care, " said José, in blank amaze, "for Sebastiano? You donot care?"

Pepita shrugged her shoulders. 

"They talk too much of him, " she answered, "and he is too vain. Hethinks all women are in love with him, and that if a girl comes from thecountry she knows nothing, and will die of love if she only sees him. "

"I did not know that, " said José, staring. "I never heard them say so. They call him a fine fellow. "

"I never heard them say so, " Pepita answered scornfully; "but I know it. I am sure he is a fool, " which remark caused José much bewilderment, andled him to reflect long and deeply, but did not, however, lead him toany conclusion but that Pepita was ruled by one of her caprices. He wasrather afraid to admit that he himself had enjoyed the magnificenthonor of seeing this great hero out of the ring; that through a quitemiraculous favor he had even been allowed to speak to him and tohear him speak as he stood, the centre of a circle of admirers in awine-shop. He had been saving this to tell Pepita, but now he thought itwell to save it a little longer. 

But when the day of the bull-fight arrived it was not possible toconceal it. 

Ah! the wonders, the splendors of that day from the first hour! At itsvery dawning Pepita was up and singing. Jovita must take her rest, thatshe might be in her best humor to enjoy the festivities, and not spoilthem by grumbling. Pepita needed no rest; her little feet danced as shemoved; as she made her preparations for the morning meal she chattedincessantly to José, asking a thousand questions. Everything conspiredto add to her joys. The sky was deep brilliant blue, but there wasa light breeze to make the heat bearable; the birds sang until theirlittle throats throbbed; the flowers in the garden seemed to have flungout new masses of bloom to make the small world about them brighter. Inher chamber, near the roof, Pepita's gala dress lay upon her bed, hernew little shoes upon the floor; she had seen them in the moonlight eachtime she had awakened in the night. A year ago it would not have seemedpossible that such pretty finery could ever be hers, even in dreams; butnow almost anything seemed possible in this new and enchanting life. 

And when she was dressed how bewitching she was! how her rose of a faceglowed and dimpled! how enchanting was the velvet darkness of her eyes!how airy the poise of her little black head, with its brilliant flowertucked in at the side of the knot of curly hair! Jovita stared at herand made a queer half-internal sound of exclamation. It was not her wayto express approval at all freely, and she had no opinion of people whowasted time in telling girls they were pretty. But José looked atthe girl as he might have looked at some rare tropical bird which hadsuddenly flown into the house. He looked and looked again, pulling hismustache, his not always alert face warming. 

"Yes, yes, " he said, "it all looks very well; that dress is pretty. Noneof the other girls will look better. Even Candida--"

Pepita laughed. Candida had been considered a great beauty in thevillage they had left, but she knew she was prettier than Candida. 

José laughed also, though he scarcely knew why. Then with rather acautious and uncertain air he produced a gay fan--a cheap one, butbrilliant with color. 

"This--" he began. 

Pepita caught it from him, and unfurled it with a quick turn of herwrist. On one side was a picture--a dashing erect figure, in a richlyhued costume. 

"It is Sebastiano, " said José, guiltily. 

Pepita nodded her head and smiled. 

"I knew it, " she said; "I knew he would look like that. "

"There is no other man who can slay a bull as he can, " said José. 

"Let him slay them, " answered Pepita. And she stood and waved her fanwith the prettiest inscrutable air in the world. 

The journey to the Plaza de Toros was almost as delightful as thebull-fight itself to Pepita. The streaming crowds of people, all bentin one direction, and all in their gayest dress and mood, laughing, jostling each other, chatting, exchanging salutations and jokes, thegrand carriages rolling by with fine ladies and gentlemen in them, therattling old diligences, omnibuses, and _tartanes_, whose passengersseemed more hilarious than the occupants of the more splendid equipages, the ringing of mule bells, the shouts of drivers, the cracking whips, the sunshine, the color, the very dust itself, all added to theexcitement of the hour. And as they made their way through the throng, it was again as it had been that first Sunday at the Paseo de la Virgendel Puerto, heads turned and exclamations were uttered when Pepitawent by. And somehow it seemed that José was better known than even hehimself had imagined, he received so many greetings. The truth was thatalready those who had seen the girl had spoken of her among themselvesand to others, their readily fired Spanish natures aflame and elate. Andthose who had not seen, but only heard of her, were in as susceptiblea condition as the more fortunate ones. She had been graphically anddramatically described again and again, so that by many a one she wasrecognized as "the pretty sister of José. "

That was what they called her--"the pretty sister of José. " She heardit half a dozen times, but never once even so much as lifted her longlashes. She was so used to admiration that it was as if they spoke ofsome one else, and it moved her not in the least, as she sat watchingthe bulls, to know that bold or languishing eyes dwelt upon her face, and that efforts were being constantly made to attract her attention. 

It was a magnificent day--every one said so; there were splendid bullsand splendid dresses, and the fighters were in superb condition. Thepeople were in good spirits too--the little breeze tempering the heathad, perhaps, something to do with it. Everything pleased them; theyapplauded wildly, and uttered shouts of encouragement and delightto bulls and toreadors alike. The grand people were richly attired;beautiful ladies watched with excited eyes the bulls, wearing theircolors in rosettes of satin and glittering tinsel; the thousands ofwaving, brilliantly hued fans fluttered like a swarm of butterflies; themusic filled the air. Pe-» pita sat in a dream of joy, the color comingand going on her cheeks, her rapture glowing in her eyes. She was aSpanish girl, and not so far in advance of her age that the terriblefeatures of the pastime going on before her could obscure its brilliancyand excitement. Truth to tell, she entirely forgot Sebastiano, not evenrecognizing him in the pageant of the grand entry, she was so absorbedin its glitter and blaze of color. But at the killing of the bull, thatwas different. Just a moment before she had awakened to the fact thatManuel was near her--near enough to speak. He had been staring at her, and growing more restless every moment, until he had at last attractedthe attention of José and Jovita, and his first words to her came amidshouts of applause and delight. 

"Sebastiano, " he said; "it is Sebastiano. " Pepita turned to look. Withwhat a proud and careless air he advanced; with what a strong, lightstep; how he held his head and shoulders; how his gold and silvergarnishings glittered; how the people called to him with a sort ofcaressing ecstasy! They adored him; he was their idol. Yes, there was athrill in it, even for her cold heart. She felt a quick pulsation. Tobe so proud and triumphant and daring--to be the central point ofeverything--to be able to awake this exultant fervor--was somethingafter all. And he was beautiful too, though she cared nothing for that, except as she could see that it added to his triumphs and made them morecomplete. His athletic grace of bearing, his dark, spirited face, withits passionate Andalusian eyes, their shadows intensified by the close, long black lashes, the very arch of his foot, and superb movement of hislimbs, would have set him apart from ordinary, less fortunate mortals;but to have all this and be also the demi-god of these impassionedpeople, it must be worth living for. If one cared for men, if one didnot find them tiresome, if one was simple enough--like Sarita--to becarried away by things, there was at least something in all this tointerest one a little. 

"It is Sebastiano, " said José. 

But Sebastiano was addressing the president of the games. He extendedhis glittering sword, and made his announcement in a clear, rich voice. Pepita listened as he spoke. And then the most thrilling excitement ofthe sport began. It was no child's play Sebastiano had before him. Thefierce black bull glaring at him with bent head and fiery eyes, utteringlow, muttering bellowings of rage as he tore at the earth, throwing upthe dust in a cloud, was a foe worthy of his mettle. He was a bull withvicious points and treacherous ones. Already goaded to fury by the playof the picadors and banderilleros, he must be watched, studied, excited, baffled; not one of his movements must be lost, or even regardedas trifling; wariness, quickness, magnificent daring, the subtlestforethought, all were needed. What play it was! what a match betweenbrute cunning, power, and ferocity, and human courage, adroitness, andcalculation! The brilliant, graceful figure was scarcely a moment inrepose; it leaped and darted, the bright cloak waving, inviting, thebright sword glittering in the sun--it toyed with death and peril, evading both with an exultant grace and swiftness marvellous to behold, and rousing the on-lookers to shouts of joy and triumph. Even old Jovitawakened to a touch of fire which seemed like a renewal of her long-pastyouth. José and Manuel joined their cries with the rest. Pepita feltagain--yes, more than once--that sudden throb and thrill. 

And when at last the end was reached, with what a superb spring thelast splendid blow was given! No need of a second; the bull staggered, shuddered, fell forward upon his knees, sank upon his side. Sebastianostood erect, a brilliant, careless, triumphant figure again, the airresounding with deafening applause. 

"You have seen him, " cried Manuel to Pepita--"you have seen Sebastiano?"

"Yes, " she answered, a little breathlessly, "I have seen him. "

And even as she spoke she knew that he had seen her; she knew it evenbefore Manuel spoke again in great excitement. 

"He looks this way--he looks at us--at you. "

It was quite true. Something had attracted his attention to the tier ofseats in which they sat, some cry--who knows what?--perhaps some subtlemagnetic influence. He turned his head with a quick movement, and hiseyes fell and fastened themselves instantly upon the brilliant littleface glowing like some bright flower among those humbler and lessblooming. 

"He looks at you, Pepita, " said José. 

"He looks at you and at Jovita, " Pepita answered. And she laughed andturned her face away. 

But not before Sebastiano had seen it well. It was Fate. Yes, he knewthat. He had been loved often; he had had romantic adventures, but ithad always been he who had received and the others who had given; he hadalways remained Sebastiano, the hero, the adored. And now he stood andlooked at a little head half concealed by a fan, and forgot for a momentwhere he was, and that the people were still shouting their applause indeafening tumult. 

CHAPTER II. 

Pepita and the others, Manuel with them, ended their gala-day with stillanother festivity. They dined together at a little café, and heard thebull-fight fought over again by those around them. At a table near themsat three chulos, who talked together in voices loud enough to be heardthroughout their meal. And it was of Sebastiano they spoke, givingdramatic recitals of his daring deeds, telling each other of what he haddone, of what he could do, and that Madrid had never seen his rival orpeer. And then his conquests. It was true that noble ladies--beautifuland noble--had sent him messages and tokens. Gonsalvo, who was hisintimate friend, could tell many things if he chose. Sebastiano hadbrilliant triumphs. Once he had even been in great danger because thewoman who loved and sought him was of such rank that her relativeswould have resorted to the stiletto rather than allow her infatuation tocontinue. 

"But it is said truly that he had no love for her--that he has littlefor any of them, " said one. "They run after him too much, these women. "

"But there was one to-day--" began one of the others. "I heard it ofAlfonso--he saw her at the bull-fight--Sebastiano--and tried to findout--"

He made a movement at this moment which brought Pepita directly withinhis view. She had been hidden from him before by the figure of Jovita. He stopped with his wine untasted and stared at her. A moment later hebent forward and spoke in a lower tone to his companions, who turned tolook also. Alfonso had pointed her out to him as she left the Plaza deToros, and he had recognized her again. 

"The little one is there, " was what he said, "behind you. He asked ifany of us had seen her before; if we knew her name. "

Pepita did not hear him, and did not know that from that hour they wouldall know her, or that at least there would be few of them who did not. For Sebastiano to show an interest in a woman, to even go so far as toask her name, was such a new thing that it must be spoken of and attractattention to her. And that she was not a fine lady, but only a prettyunknown girl with a rose in her hair, made the matter all the moreexciting. When she fell asleep, tired and happy, that night, already shewas on the road to fame. Sebastiano, who was the adored of his order, who in spite of his adventures sought no woman, had asked her name, hadmade efforts to discover it, and had learned that among those who hadhad the good fortune to see and speak to her she was known as "thepretty sister of José. " A week from this time José came home one eveningbringing Manuel with him. Manuel was often with him--in fact he hadmany friends; almost every day some gay or grave young fellow managed toattach himself to him, and somehow the acquaintance always shared itselfsoon afterward with Pepita. But Manuel appeared oftener than the rest, having a timid obstinacy, and seeming only puzzled and not discouragedby the indifference which sometimes ignored his very existence. On thisparticular evening he was moved from his usual calm, and so was José. They had seen Sebastiano; they had spoken to him; in the presence of acircle of his friends and admirers he had drunk wine with them. "We werepassing the wine-shop and we saw him, " explained Manuel, "and we went into look on a little and hear him talk. One of the chulos who stood nearspoke to him quickly when he saw us--as if he knew us--and presently thesame chulo came and spoke to José, and soon Sebastiano came and spoketoo. The one who approached us first was one of the three who drankat the table near us on the evening after the bull-fight. Once, inhis boyhood, Sebastiano lived near the village you left; he knew PadreAlejandro and some others; he was pleased to see José and speak ofthem--it was as if they were friends at once. "

"He has a good heart, " put in José; "they all say that of him. Heremembered everything--even old Juan, who lived to be a hundred and wasbent double. He asked if he lived yet. It seems strange that he was onceso near us, and was a little lad, ill-used and poor. He is not tooproud to remember it. He would be a good friend to one introuble--Sebastiano--though he is rich and spoken of by the wholeworld. "

So great a celebrity José was convinced must be known to the entireuniverse. That night, as Pepita made ready for her bed, old Jovita, whohad already retired, lay and looked at her. 

The girl stood in the flood of brilliant white moonlight which bathedpart of the bare room; her round dimpled arms were lifted as she unwoundthe soft dusky coils of her hair, to which there yet clung a few starsof jasmine. There was the shadow of a smile on her lips, and she washumming a tune. 

"What does he want with José--this Sebastiano?" said Jovita, grumblingly. 

"Who knows?" said Pepita. 

"He wants something, " Jovita went on. "They don't make friends withthose beneath them for nothing, these fine ones. They all talk of you, these foolish fellows, and he has heard, and makes friends so that hecan see you. "

"What do they say of me?" asked

Pepita, without deigning to look up. 

"Men are all fools, " grumbled Jovita; "and they think girls are foolstoo. They say you have a pretty face; and he thinks he can make a foolof you if you are not one. "

"Does he?" said Pepita, with a dimpling cruel little smile. "Let himcome to-morrow--to-night. Let him begin. "

"He will begin soon enough, " Jovita answered. "You will see. Be sure hedoes not play the old game with you as he did with Sarita. "

[Illustration: Shook the small stray blossoms out of her hair 069]

Pepita shook the small stray blossoms out of her hair and began toretwist the coil, breaking into singing in a clear voice:

 "White, white is the jasmine flower; Let its stars light thee Here to my casement, Where I await thee. White, white is the jasmine flower, Sweet, sweet is the heart of the rose, Sweet my mouth's blossom--"

She stopped short and dropped her arms. 

"See, " she said, "let him want what he will, let him come a thousandtimes, and I will never speak to him. "

In the gardens the next Sunday they met him. Pepita was talking toa young girl whose name was Isabella, and whose brother. Juan wasfollowing in the footsteps of Manuel and the rest. It was Isabella whofirst saw the matador, and uttered an exclamation. 

"Your brother is coming, " she cried, "with--yes, with Sebastiano. "

José's simple face was on fire with delight, but Sebastiano looked lessgay, and his step was less carelessly buoyant than it had been in thebull-ring. As he approached the group he looked only at Pepita. ButPepita looked only at José, her eyes laughing. 

"Jovita is cross, " she said; "she has been asking for you. She wishes togo home. "

Sebastiano's eyes were fastened upon her face, upon her red lips, as shespoke. He had heard that she was like this; that she gave her glances tono man; that she was prettier than the rose in bloom, and as cruel asa young hawk, and his heart beat as he found himself near to her. Sincethe hour he had seen her he had thought only of how he might seeher again, of how he might find her. He had made one bold plan afteranother, and had been forced to abandon each of them, and then merechance had thrown José in his path. And now the instant he approachedher she was about to elude him. 

He spoke a few hurried words to José. It was too early to go away; thepleasure of the day was scarcely at its height; he wished to entertainthem; they must not go. 

"I will go and speak to Jovita, " said José, and he went, leaving thefour together. 

The two simpler ones were somewhat abashed by the splendor of thedashing figure; they gazed at it with mingled curiosity and joy. To beso near it was enough, without effort at conversation. Sebastiano movedto Pepita's side. A Spanish lover loses little time. 

"I saw you, " he said, "at the bull-fight. "

Pepita looked over his shoulder and smiled at a passing woman who hadgreeted her. Her face dimpled, and she showed her small white teeth. Itwas as if she did not see the matador at all. 

"It was at the bull-fight, " he persisted. "Two weeks ago. You had a redflower in your hair, as you have to-day. Ever since--"

"It was not true, " Pepita said gayly, to Isabella, "what I said ofJovita. She is always cross, but she does not wish to go home. She metan old woman she knew in her young days, and is enjoying herself verymuch. "

"Why did you say it?" asked Isabella, with simple wonder. 

"Because I wished to go home myself. "

"Truly!" said Isabella. "Why is that?"

"I am not entertained so much to-day, " answered Pepita. 

[Illustration: We will make it more amusing 075]

"We will make it more amusing, " said Sebastiano, eagerly. "It shall bemore amusing--"

"There is Jovita with her old woman now, " interrupted Pepita. "I will goand speak to them. "

She was gone the next instant--her movement was like the flight ofa bird. Sebastiano stood and stared after her in silence until Juanaddressed him respectfully. 

"She is very wonderful, " he said. "She changes her mind before oneknows. Just before you came she said she was amused, and wished toremain. "

"Perhaps, " began Sebastiano, much discomforted--"perhaps it was I--"

"Ah, senor, " said Juan, with great politeness, "never. It is said thatshe always does what she chooses, and she chooses to do a thousandthings. "

"That is because she is so pretty, " said Isabella. "She is so muchprettier than all the others, and she does not care. "

"A woman who is so pretty as that, " remarked Juan, sententiously, "neednot care. "

"She says, " put in Isabella, "that if she does not care, others will;but if she should care, the others--" She stopped, meeting Sebastiano'seyes and becoming a little confused. 

"What would happen then, " he said, "if she should care?"

"I do not know, " said Isabella; "but she never will--never. "

But if she changed often toward others, Sebastiano found no change inher mood toward him. They did not leave the gardens until late in theday. Jovita was enjoying too greatly the comradeship of her old woman, and was ready to enjoy any pleasure offered to her. Sebastiano had afull purse, and perhaps understood old women of Jovita's class. He madehimself very agreeable to these two, finding them the most comfortableseats and supplying them with things good to eat and drink, over whichthey gossiped together, leaving the young ones to amuse themselves asthey pleased. They were very gay, the younger ones; even Manuel, elatedby the presence and hospitalities of Sebastiano, made little jokes. Butnone of them were gayer than Pepita. She was the centre figure ofthe party; they all looked at her, listened to her, were led by herslightest caprice. They went here and there, did this or that, becauseshe wished it. It was Sebastiano who was the host of the hour, but byinstinct each knew it was Pepita who was the chief guest--who must bepleased. 

"Is she pleased?" the matador asked José once in a low-toned aside. "Does she not entertain herself?"

"Does she not say so?" answered José, with some slight secret misgiving. 

"I do not know, " said Sebastiano, looking down. "She does not speak tome. "

José pushed his hat aside and rubbed his forehead. His respect forPepita's whims had begun early in life and was founded on experience. 

"She is young, " he faltered--"she is very young. When she enjoys herselfshe--"

He paused with an uneasy movement of his shoulders. It was quiteterrible to him that she should treat with such caprice and disdain sosplendid and heroic a person; but he knew there was nothing to be done. 

"She admires you, " he said, with courageous mendacity. "She saw you atthe bullfight. "

"She will be there again? You will take her--the next time?" saidSebastiano. 

"Yes, " answered José. "She has asked that I will. It was the greatestpleasure of her life. "

But it was true that during all the afternoon she had never once spokento Sebas-tiano. She had been as gay as a young bird, and the spirit ofthe party, her laughter, her pretty mockeries and sauciness, had carriedall before them. Manuel had been reduced to hopeless slavery. Isabellahad looked on in secret reverential wonder. Jovita's old woman hadglanced aside again and again, nodding her head, and saying, sagely:"Yes, she will always have it her own way--the little one. You are luckyin having such a grandchild. She will never be a load. " But throughoutit all Pepita had managed it that not one of her words had fallendirectly to Sebastiano. If he spoke to her, she gave her answer to theone nearest to him. If he did not put an actual question to her, shereplied merely with a laugh or a piquant grimace or gesture, whichincluded all the rest. It was worse than coldness. To the others it wasperhaps not perceptible at all; only he who searched for her eyes, whoyearned and strove to meet them, knew that they never rested upon himfor an instant. 

And then when he so daringly arranged that José should invite him toreturn home with them, to what did it all come? He was lured to oldJovita's side by the fact that at the beginning of the walk Pepita keptnear her, and no sooner had the old woman involved him in tiresome talk, from which he could not escape, than the small figure flitted away andended the journey homeward under the wing of José, and accompanied byManuel and a certain gay little Carlos, who joked and laughed like achild. 

And when after they arrived, and the moon rose, and they sat under thevines, though there was gayety and laughter, he knew, as before, thatin some mysterious manner he was excluded from it, though he seemed thehonored and distinguished guest. Carlos, who sat near some shrubs inbloom, made a little wreath of white flowers, and as she played andsang to her guitar, Pepita wore it on her head. Then Manuel, not to beoutdone, wove a garland of pink oleander, and she threw it about herthroat and sang on. Sebastiano forgot at last to speak, and could onlysit and look at her. He could see and hear nothing else. It was almostthe same thing with the rest, for that matter. She was somehow thecentre figure round which they all seemed to have gathered, as she satthere playing, a night breeze sometimes stirring the soft ruffled hairon her forehead, which was like black floss silk; and whatsoever shesang, however passionate and tender the wild little song, howeverpassionate and tender her voice, her young eyes had mockery inthem--mocked at the words, the tenderness of her own voice, and at thosewho were moved by it; and most of all Sebastiano knew that she mocked athimself. 

But he could not go away. Some strange thing had happened to him, itseemed; it was as if a spell had fallen upon him. 

Better to be mocked than to go away. He stayed so late that Jovitafell asleep and nodded under the shadow of the grape-vines. And at lastPepita put down her guitar and rose. She stood upright in the moonlight, and extended her pretty arms and stretched them, laughing. 

"Good-night, " she said. "Jovita will amuse you. Already there have beentoo many hours in this day. "

She ran into the house with no other adieu than a wave of her hand, andthe next minute they could hear her singing in her room, and knew shewas going to bed. 

Sebastiano rose slowly. 

"Good-night, " he said to José. 

Manuel and Carlos said good-night also, and went out together, walkingside by side down the white moonlit road; but Sebas-tiano moved awayfrom the shadowing vines with a lingering step, and José went with hima short distance. Something in his hero's air of gravity and abstractionsomewhat overawed him. 

"She has not been entertained, " said Sebastiano at last. 

"Yes, yes, " said José. "She has had pleasure all the day. And she isfond of pleasure. "

"She said there had been too many hours in the day. "

José rubbed his head a little reflectively for a moment, and then hiscountenance somewhat brightened. 

"She wished to lie a little for amusement, " he said, affectionately. "There is no wrong in her--Pepita--but sometimes, to be amused, she willtell a little lie without sin in it, because she knows we understandher. She does not expect us to believe. We who are used to her know herbetter. You will also understand in time. "

"Then I may come again?" asked Sebas-tiano. 

The heavy body of José almost trembled with simple pleasure. 

"It is all yours, senor, " he said, with a gesture including the littlehouse and all the grape-vines and orange blossoms and oleanders. "It ispoor and small, but it is yours--and we--"

Sebastiano's dark eyes rested for an instant on a little window underthe eaves where a jasmine vine wreathed a thick tangle of green, starredwith white flowers. And as he looked a voice broke through the fragrantbarrier singing a careless, broken bit of song--

 "White, white is the jasmine flower; Let its stars light thee. "

"It is Pepita, " said José. "She always sings when she is pleased. It isalways a good sign. "

If her singing was a sign of pleasure, then she must have been enjoyingher life greatly in the days that came afterward, for she was singingcontinually. As she went about her work there was always the shadow ofa smile on her lips and in her eyes, as if her thoughts amused her. Andshe was in such gay spirits that José was enchanted. He had only onevague source of trouble: all the rest had turned out so well! It had alloccurred just as he had dreamed, but scarcely dared to hope, in thoseby-gone days when he had been hard-worked and ill-fed and ill-clad. Hehad a good place, and what seemed by comparison incredibly good wages. He had the nice little house, and Pepita had holiday garments as gay andpretty as any other girl, and looked, when dressed in them, gayer andten times prettier than all the rest. 

That was what he had looked forward to most of all, and his end wasattained. And when he walked out with her, all the young fellows whowere allowed to come near--and many who were not--fell in love. Yes, itwas true; he saw it himself and heard it on every side. It would takethe fingers of both hands to count those who were frankly enamoured, beginning with Carlos and Manuel. But it was at this point that thevague trouble came in. And it was Pepita herself who caused it, by hertreatment of her adorers. To say that she dealt out scorn to them wouldbe to say too much; she simply dealt out nothing--and less. They mightcome and go; they might follow and gaze and sigh--she did not evendeign to seem to know they did so, unless by chance one became toopertinacious, and then she merely transfixed him with a soft, cruellysmiling eye. "She will not marry any of them, " said José to Jovita inbewilderment. 

"That will come soon enough, " said Jovita. "She is pretty, and it makesher a little fool--all girls are like that; but one of these days youmay look out--it will be all over. She is just the one to blaze up allat once. "

"I do not think she is a fool like other girls, " said José, withgravity. "But she does not seem to care about love; she does not seemto know. She is not even sorry for them when they are miserable. " He didnot consider himself when he thought of her marriage; in truth he puthimself in the background, for if some other man filled her life and herheart his vocation would be gone, and there would be some dull hours forhim before he could become used to it. But he had an innocent feelingthat without this love, of which all men talked so much, the life hewished to be bright would not be quite complete. She was too pretty andtoo good never to be married--never to have a home of her own and somefine fellow to love the dust she walked on. He himself was only José, and a brother was, after all, a poor substitute for a lover who couldtalk and sing and make jokes, and wear such a dashing air that she wouldbe proud of him. 

"That is it, " he said, sagely, to himself. "A woman must have some oneto be proud of, and she could never be proud of me. If I were Sebastianonow, it would be different. "

He stopped suddenly and rubbed his head, as his habit was when he wasstartled or confused, and his face became rather red. Perhaps this wasbecause he remembered that among all the rest, the magnificent, theillustrious, the beautiful Sebastiano was the one to whom she showedleast grace. In fact it was almost mysterious, her manner toward him. They had seen him often--he had come in many evenings to sit under thevines; when they went out for pleasure it somehow happened that theynearly always met him; but when he joined them Pepita became at oncepossessed of some strange wilful spirit. Upon reflection José foundthat he had never yet heard her speak to him: it appeared to him ashe thought it over that she always by some device avoided answeringdirectly what he said to her. 

"That is a strange thing, " said José, deeply mystified, as he suddenlyrealized this, "when one remembers how he can slay a bull. There is noone else who can slay a bull as he can. It is enough to make one weepfor joy. And yet she can treat him ill. "

But he did not know how ill; only Sebas-tiano knew that. Since the dayhe had stood in the arena and had seen all in a moment, as if a star hadsuddenly started into the sky, the small black head and rose of a face, he had lived in a fevered dream--a dream in which he pursued alwayssomething which seemed within his grasp and yet forever eluded him. Whathad he cared for all the rest of the women? Nothing. It had confusedand angered him when they had thrown themselves in his way or sent himofferings, and when he had been told of this or that beauty who wasin love with his proud, bearing and dashing courage. Women! What werewomen? He had only cared for the bulls, for the clamor of the people, and the wild excitement of the arena. All he had wished for was to learnthe best stroke, the finest leap. But this girl, who had never openedher scornful little mouth to deign him a word--who had never onceallowed him to look in her eyes--somehow this one drove him half mad. He could think of nothing else; he forgot even the bulls; he spent allthe day and sometimes all the night in devising plans to entrap her intospeaking, to force her to look at him. How obstinate she was! How shecould elude him, as if by some magic!

What had he not done that he might be near her? He had followed hereverywhere. José did not know that she scarcely ever went out withouthis following and speaking to her. He used to spring up by her side asif he had risen out of the earth, but after the first two or three timeshe never succeeded in making her start or show any feeling whatever. 

But that first time, and even the second, she had started. The firsttime she had gone to the old well for water, and as she stood restingin the shade a moment he appeared With a bouquet of beautiful strangeflowers in his hand. 

"God be with you!" he said, and laid the flowers down a moment and drewthe water for her. 

She watched him draw it, smiling just a little. 

"It will be a fine day for the bull-fight, " he said, when her jar wasfilled. 

She put her hand up and shaded her working eyes as she looked at theblue sky, but she said nothing. 

"Do you go to-day to the Plaza de Toros?" he asked. "You shall have goodplaces--the best. They are good bulls to-day, black Andalusians, fierceand hard to manage. There will be fine sport. You will go?"

[Illustration: She leaned against the side of the well 095]

She leaned against the side of the well and looked down into the water, where she could see her face reflected in the cool, dark depths. Thenext moment Sebastiano's was reflected also. He held the flowers in hishand. 

"These!" he said. "It was one of the gardeners of the king who gave themto me. They are such as the queen sometimes wears. I brought them thatyou might wear them at the bull-fight. "

She saw their beauty reflected in the water. She would not look at themdirectly. They were very beautiful. She had never seen such flowers. Andthe queen herself had worn others like them. If any one else had broughtthem--but it was Sebastiano. And she remembered Sarita. Perhaps he hadat some time given some to Sarita, knowing that to a country girl whoknew nothing they would seem very grand. Sarita would have been sure totake them. 

A wicked little look came into her face. She turned as if to take up herwater jar. But Sebastiano laid his hand upon it. 

"You will not speak, " he said passionately. "No; nor even look at theflowers I bring you. You shall tell me at least what I have done. Come, now. Am I a devil? What is it?"

She put her hands behind her back and fixed her great eyes upon himfor a moment. He could not say now that she had not looked at him. Hethought he could keep her, did he, when she did not choose to stay? She, Pepita! She stood there staring at him for a moment, and then turnedabout and walked off, leaving him with her water jar. Let him stand andwatch over it all day if he would. 

She went back to the house and called Jovita. 

"If you want your water now, " she said, "you will have to go to the wellfor it. It is drawn, and Senor Sebastiano is taking care of it. "

"Mother of God!" said Jovita, staring, "she is mad with her SenorSebastiano. "

But not another word could she gain, and before she could reach the wellshe met a boy carrying the water jar toward the house, and was told thathe had been paid to bring it. 

They went to the bull-fight; and, as Pepita sat among the rest, out-blooming the red flower in her hair, she heard it said thatSebastiano had never before been so magnificent, had never shown suchdaring and dexterity. 

"He looks at Pepita, " said Isabella to Carlos. "When he entered, hiseyes found her before he saw anything else. "

Yes, he saw Pepita, and Pepita sat and watched him with as cool aninterest as if the peril with which he played meant nothing. Herlovely eyes glowed under their drooping lashes, but it was only with amomentary excitement caused by the fierce sport; the man was nothing. 

So it seemed at least to Sebastiano. It was a bad bull he encountered, savage and treacherous, and maddened by his rage. Once there was amoment when a shadow of a misstep would have cost him his life. Therewas no time to look at Pepita then, but when the danger was passed andhe glanced toward her, she was softly waving her fan and smiling up atManuel as if she had not even seen. 

"She has a bad heart, " he said to himself, with fierce impatience. "Itis not nature that a young girl should mock at everything, and be socruel, and have neither feeling nor even a little fear. She has a badheart, or none at all. "

He would not look at her again; he swore it to himself. And for a shorttime he kept his vow; but there came a moment when something, someirresistible feeling, conquered him. It was as if he must look--as ifsome magic forced him, drew his eyes toward her in spite of himself. And when he had looked, a sharp shock thrilled him, for she herself waslooking at him; her eyes were fixed upon him with a strange steadiness, as if perhaps they had been resting upon him for some minutes and shehad forgotten herself. It was a little thing perhaps, but it was enoughfor his hot blood and swift-veering impulsive nature. He had just giventhe final stroke; he was panting, glowing. The people were shouting, rising in their seats, and repeating his name with caressing, applaudingepithets attached to it. Chance had brought him near the seat inwhich she sat, with Jovita and José and the others near her. They wereapplauding with the rest, all but Pepita, who only sat and smiled. Andin the midst of it Sebastiano made a swift movement, so swift thatit was scarcely to be understood--a mere touch of the hand to theshoulder--and something bright, like a many-hued bird, flew over thebarrier and fell upon Pepita's lap. It was the knot of gay, rich ribbonwhich a moment before the matador had worn. 

"It is the _devisa!_" exclaimed Isabella, in an awestruck tone. 

"It is his _devisa_, " cried José--"his _devisa_, Pepita. He has thrownit to you yourself--Sebastiano. "

The next moment he was struck dumb with amazement. Pepita sat uprightand broke into a little laugh. She lightly waved her fan. 

"Why did he not throw it to Jovita?" she said, and with a cruel, careless little movement she swept the _devisa_ from her knee; it fell, and she set her foot upon it. 

"She has trodden upon it, " said old Jovita. "She has done it for pride, and to show herself above others. She is ready for the devil. Some oneshould beat her. "

"It was the _devisa_, " gasped José. "Sebastiano. "

Pepita left her seat. It seemed as if something strange must havehappened to her. The crimson had leaped to her cheeks, and her eyes wereablaze. 

"What is it to me, his _devisa?_" she said. "I do not want it. I willnot have it. Let him throw a thousand, and I will tread upon them all, one after the other. Let it lie in the dirt. Let him give it to thoseothers, those women who want it--and him. " She would go home at once;not to the pleasure-gardens, not anywhere but back to the cottage;and José followed her meekly, struck dumb. He had seen her wilful, capricious, childishly passionate, a little hard to understand, manytimes before, but never like this. What had occurred to her? What hadSebastiano done?

Jovita had picked up the knot of gay ribbon and brushed the dust off it, and carried it home with her, grumbling fiercely. She was never averseto grumbling a little, and here, the saints knew, was cause. 

"For pride, " she kept repeating; "for pride, and to show that others arebeneath her! Mother of God! the king himself is not good enough for her!Let him come and pray upon his knees that she will go to the palace andwear a crown, and he will see what she will say! It is these fools ofmen who spoil her, as if there had never been a pretty face before. Letthem treat her as she treats them, and she will be humble enough. Shewas always one of the devil's children with her pride!"

But Pepita, who heard it all, said nothing, though once or twice shegave her little mocking laugh. 

CHAPTER III. 

By the time Pepita had reached home her mood had changed--her anger wasgone, or at least the signs of it were. She sang as she prepared thesupper, and chatted gayly with José. It appeared that, after all, shehad enjoyed the bull-fight; it had even been better than the others;she had had great pleasure. She made delightful little jests abouteverything; she recounted the names of the people she had seen andknown; she described to him the dresses of the girls, the airs andgraces of the men. She laughed, and obliged José to laugh also, and allthe time she looked so pretty, with the queer light in her eyes, thegleam of her little wicked white teeth, and the brilliant spot of coloron her cheeks, that she was enough to turn one's head. 

The moon was at its brightest that night. All the earth was bathedin pure, magic whiteness--the whiteness which somehow seems to bringperfume and stillness and mysterious tenderness with it. Such a night!One breathed roses and orange blossoms and jasmine. Pepita sat under theroses and sang and talked, and José smoked and was happy, but still ina state of bewilderment, though the stillness and beauty of the nightsoothed him and made him content to ruminate without words. 

Jovita fell asleep. She always fell asleep out-of-doors on the warmsummer nights, and in-doors by the fire when it was winter. Pepitaceased to talk, and sang one little song after another; then she evenceased to sing, and only touched her guitar softly now and then. After awhile José, who had stretched himself upon a bench, fell asleep also. 

Pepita ceased to touch her guitar. She looked out at the flowerssleeping in the moonlight, and for a few minutes was very still; thenshe laid the guitar down and stepped out into the brightness. 

In the light of the moon one cannot see the color in a face. Perhapsthis was why hers seemed to be gone. She looked quite pale, and herlovely little brows were drawn together until they made a black lineacross her forehead. She clasped her hands behind her head, and with herface a little thrown back, so that the light fell full upon it, wanderedout among the trees and fragrant flowering things. She liked the jasminebest, and over one part of the low, rough wall there climbed one whichblossomed with a myriad stars. So she went and stood by it, and lookednow at it, now up and down the road, which the moon had made into a pathof snow. 

And as she stood there, suddenly there started up on the other side ofthe wall the figure she knew so well, and the next moment it had vaultedover and was close to her. Sebastiano!

She stood still, her hands still clasped behind her head, her face stillupturned, and looked at him. 

[Illustration: Her hands still clasped behind her head 107]

He folded his arms and looked at her. As for him, whether the moonlightwas to blame or not, he was as pale as death. 

"Yes, " he said, "you are always the same. You do not change. One maycome at any hour. But listen to me. You think I have come to reproachyou. Why should I? I have fought bulls, but that does not teach men howto deal with women. I thought that, if a man gave you his soul and hislife and the breath of his body, you would listen some day and let himthink of you. You are a woman, and you are made to be loved; but thereis something hard in your heart. You are proud of having mocked a manwho was honest and loved you. But hear me: it is better, after all, tobe less pretty and more a woman. "

He stopped an instant. She had changed her position, and stood by thejasmine, stripping the blossoms from it one by one. She began to smileand sing softly, as if to herself:

 "Oh, bird at my window, Sing but one song to me, My lover who is light and gay. "

"And more a woman, " said Sebastiano. "It is women men want. "

Pepita looked up and laughed; then she sang again:

 "Who stirs the blossoms in the night, Who breaks the orange flower. "

Sebastiano made a swift movement and caught her wrists, his eyesflashing fire. 

"That is nothing, " he said. "You are woman enough. The time will come. It will not be always like this. You can be _made_ to love. Yes, you areone of those who must be _made_. Then you will suffer too, and it willbe good for you. You will speak then. "

He paused a moment, and held her arms a little apart, looking at herwith a sudden change to mournfulness. 

"How pretty you are!" he said. "How little and how pretty! If you weregood and gentle, and one might touch your cheek softly or stroke yourhair, how one would love and serve you! No, you cannot move. I have notfought bulls for nothing. If I let you move you will struggle and hurtyourself. Listen. I am going away. I will trouble you no more now. Iwill wait. If one waits long enough, pain ceases and one forgets. Itis so with a wound, why not with what one feels for a woman? I said youcould be _made_ to love; but let that be left for another man to do. Iwant no love like that. I want a woman. Some day you will not cast the_devisa_ under your feet. You will take it and hide it in your breast. It will not be mine, but some other man's who loves you less. I lovedyou, I was mad for you; but it shall cease. It is better to think onlyof the bulls than to play the fool for a woman who has no love in herheart. You are pretty, but that is not everything. You can work spells, but a man can break through them. There! Go!"

He gave her one long look, flung her hands aside, and had vaulted thewall and was gone himself one moment later. 

Pepita stood still with clinched hands dropped at her side, staring withwide fierce eyes down the white moonlit road. 

The next evening José came home from his work later than usual. He camedown the road with a drooping head and a slow and heavy step. When hesat down to his food he ate but little, and as he bent over his soup heheard Jovita scolding. 

"It is gone, " she was saying. "You took it, and have thrown it away. "

"Was it not mine?" said Pepita. "It was mine. I cared nothing for it, and have done what I chose with it. "

José lifted his head and listened. 

"What has happened?" he asked. 

"She has thrown away the _devisa_, which I had saved, " answered Jovita. "I laid it away, and she has taken it. What harm did it do her that itshould lie out of her sight in peace?"

"Did you do that?" José said to Pepita. 

"Was it meant for her?" said Pepita. "I told you he ought to have thrownit to her and not to me. "

José broke a piece of bread and crumbled it on the table mechanically. 

"You need not have done that, " he said. "I wish you had left it in itsplace. It did no hurt, and we shall not see him again. He is not comingany more. And soon he goes away; and who knows what may happen?"

Pepita walked out of the house without speaking. She did not come backfor a long time, and they did not know where she had gone; but as thatwas her way when she was in a naughty humor, they were not anxious abouther. 

When she returned at last the moon was shining again, and Jovita wasasleep in the shadow of the vines, and José sat on the bench outside thedoor, smoking. 

[Illustration: Pepita sat down on the threshold 115]

Pepita sat down on the threshold and rested her head against the side ofthe door. She said nothing at all, and only looked out at the dew-ladenflowers sparkling in the garden. 

There was silence for several minutes, and then José turned uneasily andspoke. 

"Yes, " he said, "he will not come again; and soon he goes away. It isfor the best. He is very strong and determined. Perhaps that comes offighting bulls. He said he wanted you, but you did not want him, so hemust forget about you. He must cease to think of you or hear of you. He asked me as a friend not to let him see me for a while, until it wasover. To see me would remind him of you, and that would not do. He askedit as a friend--there was no unkind-ness--he is my friend, yes, thoughhe is Sebastiano and I am only a poor fellow who works hard. It willall be as well as ever between us when it is all done with and we meetagain. If you had wanted him we should have been brothers. "

Pepita sat still. What strange thing had happened to her? She did notknow. Something was the matter with her breathing. Something hurt herside--labored in it with heavy beatings like blows which suffocated her. She shut her hands and drove the nails into her palms. She could nothave spoken for the world. 

Before José could say more she rose with fierce suddenness, and passedhim and was gone again. 

The poor fellow looked after her small swift form mournfully. 

"If she had wanted him, " he said, "he would have made her a goodhusband, and we should have been brothers. But she is not easy toplease, and she would not give one a chance who did not please her atfirst. And there is no one who slays a bull as he does!"

Pepita flew like a bird until she reached the low wall where the jasminegrew, at the spot where she had stood the night before. There shestopped, panting. The breath of the jasmine filled all the air abouther. She looked up the white road. 

A strange new passion filled her. She did not know whether it was angeror not, but if it was anger it was of a new kind, with more pain init than she was used to. He would not come again--not at all again!He would not appear at her side as if he had sprung from the earth; hewould not follow her or plead with her, or look at her every moment hewas near her; he would not try to make her speak. Only last night he washere in this very spot, and now he would never speak like that again. Hewould forget her, not care for her--forget her, Pepita. 

She would not believe it. She knew he could not--they never did; theyalways loved her best and wanted no one else. And still the laboredthrobbing went on in her side and she panted for breath. 

"Come back, " she cried, looking up the white road. "I tell you to comeback. You shall. Do you hear? I tell you--I--Pepita!"

But there was no answer, no sound of any footstep, no sign of anyadvancing shadow. The road stretched out its white length in uttersolitude, and a strange, wild look came into her beautiful little face. 

"Do you not hear?" she persisted. "I will not speak to you if you docome; I will give you nothing; I will not look at you; but you shallcome because I will it--because I am Pepita. "

Still there was only silence and loneliness. Suddenly she flung out herhands and stamped her foot. 

"I will kill you, " she said. "If you do not come--I will kill you!"

Then almost immediately she put her clinched hand to her beating sideand sank down upon the earth, burying her face in the dew-wet fragranttangle of the jasmine. 

But he did not come back. And yet every night she went and stood by thelow wall, and looked up the white road and watched and waited. For along time she did not know what she intended to do if he should appear. All was vague in her mind. At first it seemed only as if her whole beingwent out into the fierce demand that he should come, and the obstinateproud belief that it must be as she wished--that he could not resist anddisobey her. Who had ever disobeyed her? Not José; not Jovita, for allher grumblings; not any of those others. And was it likely that he whohad adored her more than all the rest, who had watched her with thathungry love in his eyes, could do what no other had ever done? She toldherself this over and over again; but he did not come. She began to feela feverish eagerness when she dressed herself, a passionate desire tobe pretty--to be prettier than ever before. She used to stand before herscrap of looking-glass to try on one bit of simple finery after another, twisting up the soft cloud of her hair afresh a dozen times a day, andputting a fresh flower in it. She went to the well again and again andfilled her jar, and emptied and filled it again, and lingered, and triednot to look round when she heard a footstep; but the right one nevercame, though her heart's throbbing shook her many times in false alarm. She was only a child--a passionate Spanish child, ignorant and fullof fierce young natural impulses--and she knew only childish, crudemethods. So she made herself beautiful, and showed herself in the placeswhere she thought he would see her and be unable to resist her willand her beauty; but though she made José take her here and there andeverywhere, she never saw Sebastiano but once. It was in the PublicGarden, where they had first met. They were sitting in the shaderefreshing themselves with wine, and he came toward them, not at firstseeing them. Pepita clutched her fan until she broke it, and a wildexultation sprang in her breast. She had seen before she left home thatshe had never before been so pretty. 

There had come into her face a new look--a fire that had burned deeperevery charm. He would see--he would see that she was Pepita still, andthat he could not keep his word if she chose--if she chose. 

He drew nearer and nearer, still not seeing them. He was talking to thethree companions who were with him. He was richly dressed, and lookedstronger than ever, and more handsome and graceful. He came stillnearer. No, she would not speak to him. No! He looked up and his eyefell upon them--upon José and Jovita and Pepita! He drew back a stepand stood still; he made a low bow to them, a grand bow, such as he madewhen he was in the bull-ring and the people applauded. He turned awayand passed on. Yes, without a word. 

Jose sighed a deep and mournful sigh and rose to his feet. 

"Come, " he said. "We must go. It is best not to stay. He does not wishto see us, and he asked that I would keep away. It is a pity--but heasked it. "

The breath was coming in sharp little puffs through Pepita's delicatenostrils. It was as if she had been struck a blow. She walked home as ina sort of delirium; she saw none of those who turned to look at her. Shewalked faster and faster. Jovita could not keep pace with her. 

"What is the matter?" said the old woman. "You walk as if you had adevil in you. Your breath is all gone. Are you mad?"

At night, when they sat together, Pepita spoke of the next bull-fight. José must take her. She wished to go. 

"It is better that we should not go there, " said José. "You know why. He will not like to see you. You saw how it was to-day. He is not angry, only he is determined not to be reminded. Soon he will go away, and thenyou shall go with me as often as you wish; but not now. After this weekhe will be far away--far away. "

"I will go now, " said Pepita. "I will go without you if you will nottake me. Isabella and Juan and Manuel will be glad enough. Let him--lethim look at his bulls. "

She did not know that it was desperation that had seized upon her; shethought it was defiance. Yes, yes, she told herself, breathlessly, heshould see her laugh and talk with Manuel and Carlos and Juan and therest; and then he would be punished. 

She would hear nothing that José said. She would go--she would go. Noother bull-fight but this would please her. 

She could scarcely live until the day arrived. She had made for herselfa new gala dress; she had a new fan and a necklace she had bought out ofher little savings. 

There was a great crowd. It was known that Sebastiano was to go away, and many had come for that reason, wishing to see him for the last timein the season. 

At first Pepita was gayer than her adorers had ever seen her. Shedeigned to talk and smile and listen. She had the restlessness and colorof some brilliant-winged bird. Isabella looked at her in wonder. 

"She was never like this before, " she whispered to Juan. 

And then Sebastiano came, and for the time they saw only him. 

When at last the bull lay an inert mass in the dust, and the peopleshouted and almost flung themselves from their places into the arena intheir excitement, and the gay and superb actor bowed to them--bowed tothem again and again--Pepita sat like a little image of stone. She wasquite colorless, and her eyes were fixed. She seemed to hear and seenothing until some one spoke to her. Then she rose and looked at Manuel. 

"It is too hot, " she said, in a low voice not like her own. "I must go. The sun. I have a pain in my head. Come. "

He had not lifted his eyes once to her. It was as if she had notlived--as if she had been Isabella or Carmenita--and he did not give hera thought. No, he had not once looked up. 

The next day he was gone. She heard José say so to Jovita, who grumbledloudly. She had forgotten her old distaste for these "fine ones. "

"And but for her humors he would have stayed, " she said. "What more doesshe want than a fine well-built man like that--a man who is well-to-do, and whom every other girl would dance for joy to get? But no; nothingbut a prince for her. Well, we shall see. She will work for her breadherself at last, and serve the other women who have homes and husbands. "

In the middle of the night she was wakened from her slumbers bysomething--she knew not what. Soon she perceived it was Pepita, trembling. 

"What is it now?" demanded the old woman. 

"I stayed out in the dew too long, " said Pepita, "and I am cold. "

"That is well, " said Jovita. "Get chilled through and have a fever, thatwe may ruin ourselves with doctors' bills; and all because you choose toremain in the night air when you should be asleep. "

Pepita lay on her pillow, her eyes wide open in the darkness, her smallhot hand clutching against her breast something she had hung round herneck by a bit of ribbon. It was the _devisa_ she had stolen from Jovita, and which had not been thrown away at all. In the daytime it was hiddenin the bosom of her dress; at night it hung by a cord and her hand heldit. By this time a sort of terror had mingled itself with her passion ofanger and pain, and she lay trembling because she was saying to herselfagain and again:

"I am like Sarita! I am like Sarita!"

She said it to herself a thousand times in the weeks and months whichfollowed, and which seemed to her helplessness like years. She said itin as many moods as there were hours of the day. Sometimes with wildunreasoning childish rage; sometimes with a shock of fear; sometimes ina frenzy of shame; sometimes, as she stood and looked up the road, hercheeks pale, her eyes dilated with self-pity and tears. 

"I am like Sarita! Yes--Sarita!" She remembered with superstitioustremor all the things that had been said to her of the punishment thatwould fall upon her because of her hard-heartedness. She rememberedJovita's prophecies, and how she had mocked them; how cruel she had beento those who suffered for her; how she had laughed in their faces andturned away from their sighs. 

She remembered Felipe, whom she had not spared one pang--Felipe, at whomshe had only stared in scorn when he wept and wrung his hands beforeher. Had he felt like this when she sent him back to Seville to despair?

A cruel fever of restlessness burned her. She could find pleasure nomore in the novelties of the city, in the gayeties of the gardens, inher own beauty. 

Sometimes she was sure it was magic--the evil-eye. And she slippedaway, poor child! and knelt in the still, cool church, and prayed to bedelivered. 

But once as she was doing this a sudden thought struck her. 

"Not to think of him any more, " she said, knitting her brows with yetanother new pang. "Not to remember his face--not to remember his voiceand the words he said! No, no!" And her rosary slipped from her fingersand fell upon the stone floor, and she picked it up and rose from herknees and went away. 

All that day and night she thought and thought, and the next day wentto pray again--but not that she might be delivered. She brought to theshrine at which she knelt substantial promises as offerings. Hers werenot the prayers of a saint, but of a passionate, importunate child, self-willed and tempestuous. She would not have prayed if she could havehoped for help from any earthly means. She had never prayed for anythingbefore. She had always taken what she wanted and gone her way; but shehad had few needs. Now in this strange anguish she could do nothing forherself, and surely it was the place of the Virgin and the saints tohelp her. She stormed the painted wax figure in its niche with appealswhich were innocently like demands. 

Make him come back--make him come back to her. Mother of God, he mustreturn! Make him come to the wall some night--yes, to-night. He must notknow that she was like Sarita, but he must come; and whatsoever she didor said he must not go away again. She would sell her new necklace; thesilver comb her mother had left, her--the comb her father had given hermother in the days of their courtship; she would do some work, and giveto the Holy Mother some candles and flowers; but he must come back, andhe must not go away again whatsoever she did. 

She knelt upon the stone floor, her hands wrung together, pouring forththe same words breathlessly over and over, each reiteration more intensethan the last, all her young strength going out into the appeal. 

And still she had not yet reached the point of knowing what she shoulddo and say when he came. 

When she tried to rise to her feet she was obliged to make two effortsbefore she succeeded. She had given such a passion of strength to hersiege that she was almost exhausted, and she went out into the dazzlingsunlight trembling. She did this day after day, day after day, and atnight she waited by the wall, but the road was always the same. 

And she could hear nothing--not a word. She could not ask, even thoughsometimes as she sat and gazed at José with hungry eyes it seemed as ifshe must drop dead if he did not speak. But he did not speak because hecould have told her but little, and was quite secure in his belief thatthe mere mention of Sebastiano's name angered her. 

So the time went by--weeks and months--and at last one evening she wentto the church and prayed a new prayer. 

"Sacred Mother, " she said, "I have sold the comb and the necklace, andI have worked and can keep my word. I have bought a little golden heart. And if he comes"--in a fainter whisper--"if he comes I will say nothingill to him. "

That night, for the first time, she heard of Sebastiano. 

Little Carlos came in and was full of news. 

"They say that Sebastiano has had great success, and that perhaps hewill go to America. "

"Where is America?" asked Jovita. 

"It is at the other end of the world, and never yet have the people seena bull-fight. "

"Never?" said José, staring. "That is impossible!"

"It is true, " answered Carlos. "And they are rich, and like new things;and the king has spoken of sending for Sebastiano. He will be richenough to build a palace for his old age. "

A few days later, in the dusk of the evening, there crept into thechurch a little figure familiar to the painted saints and the waxenVirgin. But to-day it wore a changed aspect. It moved slowly at first, reluctantly; the brilliant little face was pale; the eyes wild withtorture. A moment it stood before the altar, and then flung up its armswith a fierce gesture. 

"Mother of God, " it cried, brokenly, "then if it must be so--tellhim--tell him that I am like Sarita!" and fell upon the altar stepsshuddering and sobbing like a beaten child. 

[Illustration: Shuddering and sobbing like a beaten child 135]

CHAPTER IV. 

And yet it was again weeks and weeks before she heard another word. Inthose weeks there were times when she hated José because he never oncespoke of what she wished to hear. She could not speak herself--she couldnot ask questions; she could only wait--hungry and desolate. They wouldnot even say--these people--whether he had gone to the King of Americaor not; whether he was at the other end of the world, or whether hewas only in some other city. The truth was that José had innocentlycautioned the others against speaking of one whom Pepita disliked tohear of. 

"She does not like him, " he said, sorrowfully. "Girls are like thatsometimes. It makes her angry when one talks of him. "

But slow as he was, he could not help seeing in time that something waswrong with Pepita. Sometimes she scarcely talked at all, and she did notflame up when Jovita grumbled; it seemed as if she scarcely heard. Hereyes had grown bigger, too, and there was a burning light in them. Theyalways appeared to be asking something; often he found himself obligedto look up, and saw them fixed upon him, as if they meant to wrestsomething from him. The careless bird-like look had gone, the carelessbird-like laughter and mocking. He began gradually to fancy she wasalways thinking of something that hurt and excited her. But then therewas nothing. She had all she wanted. She had as many trinkets as theother girls; she had even more. She had so little work to do that shehad sought some outside her home to fill her spare moments, and sheloved no one. There was not a man she knew who would not have comeif she had smiled. What, then, could it be? And how pretty she was!Prettier than ever; prettier because of the burning look in her eyes, and--and something else he could not explain; a kind of restless graceof movement, as if she was always on the alert. 

"Are you not pleased with Madrid any longer?" he asked her once. 

"Yes, " she answered. 

"Do you want anything?"

"No. "

"It seems to me, " he said, slowly, and with much caution, "that you donot amuse yourself as you did at first. "

"It is not so new, " she said; "but there is still pleasure enough. " Andfor a moment she kept her great eager eyes fixed upon him, and then shemoved slowly toward him and touched him with a soft touch on his bigclumsy shoulder and said: "You are a good brother! You are a goodbrother!"

"I have always loved you, " he said, with simple pride. "When we werechildren, you know I always promised that you should see better days. "

She had forgotten to count the weeks and days, or to take note ofthe changing seasons, when one hot day in the early summer he camein--José--with an innocent joy in his face. 

He looked questioningly at Pepita two or three times and then coughed. 

"You will not mind now, " he said. "It is so long ago, and it is allover. Sebastiano has come back. He did not go to America; he is inMadrid to-day. He came to me in the street; he did not avoid me; he wasrejoiced to see me. It appears that it is all well with him. AfterwardManuel told me. It appears there is a very pretty girl he met inLisbon--she is here now. It is said he will marry her. "

Pepita clinched her hands and stared at him with eyes that burned asnever before. 

"It is not true!" she said through her teeth. "It is not true!"

José fell back two steps. 

"Not true?" he stammered. "Why not? They say so. "

"A man who slays bulls as he does, " she said, "does not forget a womanin a day. "

José was lost in amazement. 

"I thought you believed nothing but ill of him, " he said. "What hashappened? You are angry--angry. "

"It is not true about the girl from Lisbon, " she said. "It is a lie theyamuse themselves with. "

Never had innocent José been so thunderstruck. This was beyond hisunderstanding. He was afraid to speak, and kept looking sidewise at heras he ate his soup; but she said no more. 

"What has happened?" he said to himself over and over again. "Will shenot allow him to marry another, though she does not want him herself?"

Later he went out again. It must be confessed that he went in thehope of seeing Sebastiano, or at least hearing of him. There wasno difficulty in hearing of him. In the wine-shops and at the streetcorners he was being talked of in every group. Of what else could peoplespeak who knew he had returned? How there would be sport--how therewould be pleasure! Life began to wear a more vivacious aspect. And whathad he not done since he had left Madrid? Such success--such adulation!The impression among his adorers was that the whole world had been athis feet. Here and there one could hear snatches of song of which hisname was the refrain. It was only because he so loved his own peoplethat he had refused the magnificent offers made by the King of America. He had refused them; he had chosen to remain in Spain. He had come toMadrid. Soon he would appear before them again. He had even gained instrength and dexterity; and as to his good looks--ah! what a dashing, handsome fellow!

José had the good luck to see him again, even to speak to him. Whatfortune--what happiness! The honest fellow felt himself overjoyed. Theywere to be friends again. 

It was quite late when he found himself walking homeward over the whiteroad again. He had drunk wine enough to make him feel quite gay; andas he went he sang now and then a verse of a song about the joys of thebull-fight. 

When he was about half-way home he thought he heard behind him the soundof rapid feet--light feet running. He stopped and looked back. What wasit he saw, or thought he saw? Was it a small dark shape which flittedinstantly into the shadow of the trees? It looked like a woman who didnot wish to be seen. Well, he would not look, then. What was the use ofgiving her trouble? He tramped on, perhaps a little more slowly. It waslate for a woman to be out on the lonely road alone. It must be pastmidnight. Then the thought came to him that perhaps she wished to passhim. In that case he might look the other way, on the opposite side ofthe road. In fact, he crossed to the other side to leave the way clear, and went on good-naturedly, singing his song loudly and all out oftune. Yes, he had been right. Soon the footsteps drew nearer; the shadowwithin the shadow slipped past--ran swiftly. But by that time they werenearing his home, and there was a stretch of road unshaded by anything. The shadow hesitated, darted across the white space, and José, seeing itin the full light, uttered a cry, and started in pursuit. In but afew moments he had reached it and held it by the arm, feeling all theslender body breathless and panting. 

[Illustration: The slender body breathless and panting 147]

"Pepita!" he cried. "It is you?"

She let the mantilla drop from her face and stood and looked at him. 

"Yes, " she answered, "it is Pepita; and you need not ask--I will nottell you. I have been to--to look at something--and I will tell younothing. "

He put his hand up and rubbed his forehead violently. Then he let itdrop. 

"I shall not ask, " he said. "You would do no wrong. You are a good girl;but--"

"You think I have gone mad, " she said, with a sudden change of voiceand a piteous little shiver. "Who knows? Perhaps some one has cast theevil-eye upon me. But I have done no harm, and I shall do none. "

"No, " he said, rather stupidly. "You would do no harm. Let us go in, then. "

And without another word they went into the house, Pepita to her bedto be awake and gaze at the darkness, José to sit with his head in hishands and thinking a thousand wild thoughts until he fell asleep. 

He could not know that where he had been she had been also; that whenthe snatches of song had been sung she had heard them; that when thepeople had talked of Sebastiano she had listened; that when Sebastianohad stood in the bright light she had stood in the shadow and watched. She had not thought of danger or of being discovered. She had onlythought of one thing and listened for one thing--and once she had heardthis thing discussed by some chattering young chulos. 

[Illustration: She is a pretty young girl 151]

"She is a pretty young girl, " they said. "Not as pretty as that other, but handsome enough. She was a little devil, that other. But it is amistake for a man like him to marry. How can a man feel free to risk hislife gayly when he has a woman hung about his neck?"

"He will not, " she whispered, growing hot all over. "No, he has notforgotten. I have given the little heart and the flowers and candles. And he could not forget while I--He will come back. "

She struggled with the passionate persistence of a child. Since shewould not give him up, he was hers. 

But she did not know what to do. There was nothing but to wait in thisfever of strange misery and unrest, which grew more cruel every day;and at the bull-fight if he would only look--perhaps--yes, if he saw herface, he would understand and come. 

In the days before the great entertainment took place she was likesome little savage creature at bay. She could scarcely bear to hearthe voices of those who spoke to her. Once she went into the church andthrew herself upon her knees as usual, but when she looked up her eyeswere fierce. 

"If he does not come, " she cried to the waxen Virgin, "I will pray toyou no more--no more. "

She knew that it was blasphemy, but she did not care; and before shewent home she bought a sharp little knife and hid it in her breast. 

"This, " she whispered, "this--if it is true about the girl from Lisbon;but it is not true. "

For many years afterward the day of the great bull-fight was remembered. No one who saw it forgot it as long as he lived. Affairs used to datefrom it in the minds of many. 

A year had passed since that first brilliant day when Pepita had goneforth in her first festal dress. She remembered it all as she dressedherself on this other morning. The same day seemed to have come again;the same sunshine and deep blue sky. There were the same flowers noddingtheir heads; Jovita was grumbling a little in her haste, just as she haddone then; and in the looking-glass there was the same little figure inthe bright attire--the soft black hair, the red rose, the red mouth. Asshe looked, a sudden triumph made her radiant. 

"I have not grown ugly, " she said. 

No, she had not grown ugly. She was too young and strong for that, andexcitement had flushed her into new brilliance. 

When she found herself seated among the fluttering fans of rainbowcolors, that moment's glow of exultation left her. Strangely enough, shecould not help thinking of the empty church and the waxen figure beforewhich she had knelt, and then of the nights when she had stood watchingby the wall, and then of the sharp little knife in her breast. And thencame the clamor of the music and the grand entry of the moving stream ofcolor and glitter dazzling her eyes. No; just at first she had not thepower to look. Could it be she--Pepita--who felt dizzy and could notsee? who could distinguish nothing in the splendid panorama of thetriumphal march? And what clamor, what excitement there was on everyside! "What bulls! What men!" they were saying about her. 

Only she seemed, in the midst of all the loud-voiced eagerness anddelight, to sit alone, a cold little figure vaguely tormented by thegayety and the voices and the color of fluttering fans and ribbons andcostumes. The deep rose had fled from her face; she sat with her handswrung on her knee and waited for one moment to come. 

The great bull ran bellowing around the arena; little beribboned dartswere flung at him and stuck in his shaggy shoulders; brilliant cloakswere flaunted in his face; taunting cries mocked him. He charged hitherand thither in blind fury, scattering men and horses, who only returnedagain to the attack. 

"It takes too long, " communed Pepita, "It takes too long. "

And then the voices began to call for Sebas-tiano. "Sebastiano!Sebastiano!" on every side--even the grand ladies and their cavaliersclapping their hands and calling also. The beauties in the high placeswere always ready to see him come, and to give him a welcome when herisked his life to amuse them. 

He stepped forth in his rich dress and with his gallant bearing, amore beautiful and gay figure than ever, it seemed the excited peoplethought. He had grown finer, without doubt, they said. His face was alittle pale, but that only made more beautiful his long dark eyes, undertheir dense, straight, black lashes. It was the women who said this, andwho saw the richness of his dress, the colors of his _devisa_, theclose curl of his crisp hair, the grace of his movement. The men saw hissuperb limbs, his firm step, his quick glance, his bright sword. 

"Come, little slayer of bulls, " they shouted, "and show us what youwould have taught the people of America. "

And it appeared they were not to be disappointed in their expectationof sport. They saw that when he stood before the bull and made a littlemocking bow of salute, he looked into its small, furious eyes with asmile, as it drew near--a bellowing black mass, snorting and throwing upthe dust. It was as ready to begin as he. It rushed upon him, and he wasgone. He played with it, led it on, defied it, eluded it. The flashingsword seemed to become a score of glittering blades; the peopleshouted--rose in their seats--leaned forward--laughed--mocked thebull--cried out praises of sword and man and beast--of each leap--eachtouch of the steel's point. 

"He plays with it as if it were a little lamb, " they cried. "Sebastiano!Sebastiano!"

Of what use to tell what must be seen in all its danger to beunderstood? The joy and exultation rose to fierce fever-heat, the criesswelled higher, faces flushed and eyes sparkled and flamed, while thebrilliant figure darted, leaped, attacked, played with death as it haddone scores of times before. 

Only Pepita sat without color or applause--only Pepita's fan wasmotionless amidst all the fluttering--though her breast moved up anddown, and the throbbing in her side was like the beating of a hammer. She was speaking to herself, though her lips were closed; she wasspeaking to Sebastiano. 

"He will look soon, " she was saying. "He will look as he did that firstday. My eyes will make him look. They will force him to it. Listen!it is Pepita whose eyes are on you. You must feel them. You have notforgotten. No. And it is Pepita--Pepita!"

All the strength of her body and soul she threw into her gaze--all thefire of her young wildly beating heart and throbbing pulses. 

"You must hear, " she said. "Pepita! Pepita!"

And unconsciously she leaned forward so that her white face and greateyes, and the little black head with the rose burning in its hair, stoodout among the faces of those about her. 

And he looked up and saw her, and their eyes met; and without knowingshe started to her feet. 

No one knew, no one but herself saw, how it happened: even she did notunderstand until all was past. Their eyes met, as they had done on theday a year before. No, not as they had done then, but with a strangenew look. Sebastiano started; the arena swam before him; there was asecond--a fatal second in which he saw only a small face without colorand the red rose which was the color of blood. Then there was a roarnear him--a roar among the people--a wild shriek from the women. Thebull was upon him; he made a misstep, and was caught, amid the shrieksand bellows, and flung inert far out upon the hoof-trodden dust with theblood pouring from his side. 

"But, " they said in the wine-shops at night, "when they took him up, though they thought him gasping in death, he had not lost himself; andas they carried him out they came upon a girl--the one who is called'the pretty sister of José'--her brother was taking her away. She lookedlike one dead three days; and Sebastiano--there is a man for you!--torethe _devisa_ from his shoulder and dropped it at her feet; and shesnatched it up--all wet with his blood--and thrust it in her breast, anddropped like a stone. It is said that he loved her, and she had a devilof a temper and treated him badly. He is a good fellow--her brotherJosé--and wept like a child for Sebastiano, and has begged to be allowedto nurse him, and Sebastiano will have it so. "

"I am strong as an ox, " José had said, weeping. "I can watch like a dog. I want neither sleep nor food, if it comes to that; and once when one ofmy comrades fell from a scaffold I was the only one who could nurse himwithout killing him with the pain. He will tell you that I nursed himwell, and was never tired. "

"Let him stay, " said Sebastiano. 

In his struggle with death, which lasted so long, it was always thelarge form and simple, anxious face of José he saw when he knew whatpassed around him, and even when the fever brought him delirious visionshe was often vaguely conscious of his presence. For himself, he did notknow whether he was to live or die; but one night he found out. 

It was a beautiful night which came after a long day in which thoseabout his bed had looked at him with pitying eyes, and at last a priesthad come and absolved him of his sins, and left him with a solemn, kindly blessing, with a soul clear of stain and ready for paradise. 

He had fallen asleep afterward, and had dreamed not of heaven but ofearth, of a red rose in soft black hair, and of a passionate little facewhose large eyes glowed upon him. 

And suddenly he was wide awake, and found his dream a living truth. 

José was no longer in the room. The moonlight made everything clear, andupon the floor beside him knelt Pepita, her eyes fixed upon his. 

[Illustration: Dios! Dios! he murmured 163]

"Dios! Dios!" he murmured. 

"Hush!" she said. "Do not speak. It is Pepita. Look at me. They saidthat perhaps to-night you would die. I have prayed until I can pray nomore, and when I came to José the tears were falling from his eyes, andhe said perhaps you would not see the day. Then I showed him the littleknife hidden in my breast, and told him if he did not let me come to youalone I would not live. I said I could force you to remain on earth. I love you--I love you. It has all happened, that which you said wouldhappen; and when the _devisa_ fell at my feet I hid it in my breast withthe other which was there before. And because I love you so, you cannotdie. I will do anything you say I must do. I am Pepita, and I givemyself to you. I would give my blood and my life and my soul for you. Every night I have waited by the wall in the hope that you would come. I have watched you when you did not see me. If you had not come I shouldhave killed myself; if you die, I will drive the knife to its hilt in myheart. I can love more than those women who love so easily and so often. I knew nothing about it when I was so proud and mocked you. I know now. Mother of God! it is like a thousand deaths when one cannot see the faceone wants. What hunger night and day!--one is driven mad by it!"

She bent more closely over him, crushing his un wounded hand against herheart--searching his soul with her look. 

"They said there was a girl in Lisbon whom you loved, " she said. "I knewit was a lie. "

"Yes, " he whispered, "it was a lie. Kiss me on the mouth. "

His arm curved itself around her neck, and the red lips which had mockedmelted upon his own. 

"Did you suffer?" he murmured. 

She began to sob like a child, as she had sobbed at the feet of theVirgin. 

"I told you that you would suffer! It was the same thing with me. Saintsof Heaven! human beings cannot bear that long. I shall not die, and Iwill make you forget the pain. Stay with me, and let me see your eyesand touch your lips every hour, that I may know you are Pepita, and thatyou have given yourself to me. "

"I will stay through all the day and night, " she answered. "They cannotmake me go away if I do not wish it. They always give me my way. I havealways had it--the Virgin herself has given it to me. "

It seemed this was true. In a few months from then the people whostrolled in the Public Garden on Sunday looked at a beautiful youngcouple who walked together. 

"There are two who are mad with love for each other, " it was said. "Sebastiano and his wife. She is the one he threw his _devisa_ to whenhe thought himself a dead man. They used to call her 'the pretty sisterof Jose. '"