Pilar, when the last gleaming crucifix and waving
palm, blessed by the bishop, had disappeared. "I was sure they wouldn't
come. And--it does seem hard to disappoint you--but I'm afraid they won't be
in their box this afternoon. Oh, we shall go, of course! But that will be
the time for the Duke to lend the Conde de Ambulato his box. Thursday will
be the great day, when the King will be in the royal box, and will walk
with his _cofradia_ of the cigarette-makers before Our Lady of Victory.
You know how anxious the Duke is to win back the favour of the royal
family; and he'll hardly think it worth while to sit through the hours of
a procession unless he can be next door to the King, with a chance of an
invitation to his box."

This was discouraging; still, I determined to be in the crowd during the
afternoon; and I knew well that, though the splendid show of _Semana
Santa_ was an old story to the O'Donnels, they would not fail me for a
moment.

Dick shamefacedly bought from one of many vendors an armful of blessed
palms for Pilar to tie under the house windows, as a protection against
the rage of thunder-storms throughout the coming year; and we drove to the
country with the great glistening fronds blowing behind the motor-car like
giant plumes.

I spent hours writing, tearing up, and rewriting a letter to Monica which
Pilar was to try and deliver if she could, and when she could. We lunched
and did our best to make careless conversation, as if we were not anxious
and excited--Dick and I for our own selfish reasons; the two others in
sympathy. We talked of Seville, past and present--once "Sultana of the
South," still beautiful and gay, though her reign is over. "We are very
happy even now, among ourselves, we Sevillanos," said the Cherub. "You
should see a _tertulia_, if you want to know how families can enjoy
themselves together. But there's another side of the picture, too. English
and American people--there are a few--accuse us of being unsociable. They
say we never give invitations to luncheons and dinners as people of other
countries do; that a few calls are exchanged, and that is all, in an
intercourse, it may be, of many years."

"Oh, I know what they say!" laughed Pilar. "I heard an American girl give
a friend of hers a description of families she knew in Seville. 'You go to
call,' said she; 'and if the ladies are at home (they won't be if they can
help it), you're shown into a shut-up drawing-room smelling of m