Colonel O'Donnel remembered Senor Olivero since the time when he was a
_banderillero_; oh, incomparably the most brilliant _banderillero_ of his
day. Then, afterwards, what triumphs as a _torero_! Ah, that was something
for an old admirer to remember. Not to regret, naturally, since the senor
was as great an artist in his present profession as in that other
doubtless sacrificed to family affections.

This gentleman whom he (Colonel O'Donnel) now ventured to introduce was
from England, travelling with a friend from the States who wrote articles
on Spain for well-known journals. The American could speak no Spanish, but
with the gentleman from England it was like the native tongue. Therefore
it was he who most often attended important ceremonies, and made notes for
his friend to work up into articles. This entertainment in which Senor
Olivero was assisting the Duke of Carmona, for instance; it would be all
that was characteristic of Spain, as well as beautiful. If the senor would
allow the gentleman from England to enter the Alcazar as one of his
guitarists, an article could be made for the great American newspapers
which would not only be a credit to the journalist, but would widely
advertise the skill of Senor Olivero and his pupils.

If every man has his price, it was not derogatory to his merits that these
pearls of flattery should be the price which bought Olivero. Not a penny
was to be paid for the favour. When the word "money" was hinted, rather
than spoken, the ex-hero of the bull-ring waved it away with a superb
gesture. But he would be glad to see the articles when they appeared; and
this was promised, for Dick must write them for the neglected papers he
was supposed to represent.

In return for the promise (and the compliments), it was arranged that I
should present myself at his house about ten o'clock (the dance was timed
to begin at 10.45), there dress for my part, and be furnished with a
guitar. Once inside the Alcazar I need not play upon the instrument; but,
said Olivero, it was well that I should be able to do so if called upon.
My costume was to be a short _chulo_ jacket and tight-hipped, loose-legged
grey trousers, with a low-collared, unstarched shirt, and a broad-brimmed
grey sombrero de Cordoba. With this hat, well tipped over my eyes, in
moonlight or even spasmodic rose-and-gold bursts of coloured fire,
recognition would be impossible at a distance; and I meant to keep at a
distance from all the