short
jacket, and trousers fitting close as a glove until they widened below the
knee. Yes, the dress would suit him; and Pilar admitted reluctantly that
he was a perfect rider. I was horribly jealous, ready to fancy that, after
all, Monica had actually begun to care for him.

There had been a procession on Wednesday, but it was not an affair of
importance; and with Thursday, and the presence of the King, all the
greatest events of this _Semana Santa_ were to begin.

Early in the afternoon there was washing of poor men's feet by the great
ecclesiastics in the cathedral, the King remaining at the Alcazar to
bathe--as Dick put it--a few carefully selected feet on his own account, as
a sign of humility. Later, would come the most splendid procession of the
week, the King walking with his own _cofradia_; in the evening, the
Miserere in the cathedral, and processions all night, till mass on Good
Friday morning. To myself I said, therefore, that I was to have two more
chances: the one for which I depended upon Pilar in the afternoon; the one
for which I depended on an inspiration of my own in the evening. For all
the world was going to hear the Miserere.

Though it was a week for penitence and fasting, Seville--honoured by the
King--thrilled with excitement. Thousands of strangers had poured into the
town for this day, and the crowds were three times as dense as on Sunday.
Though there had been disquieting rumours, whispers of anarchist plots and
bombs, the police had been alert; the King had taken a swift gunboat up
the Guadalquivir, instead of arriving by special train from Cadiz, had
reached Seville safely; and now anxiety was forgotten. All the town poured
into the Plaza de la Constitucion more than an hour before there was any
hope that the procession might begin; and I was in the crowd.

The boxes filled earlier than before, many of the ladies no longer in
black, but wearing Paris hats and pale-tinted dresses, though to-morrow
there would be black mantillas again, and red carnations. Pilar, Dick, and
Colonel O'Donnel were in their places, and though the Duke's box was still
empty, I was sure I should not be disappointed to-day. "He'll appear about
the time the King does," I was saying to myself, when suddenly there came
a stir in the royal box. The mayor and town councillors walked in, looking
important; four giant halberdiers of the royal guard took position, each
in a corner of the box. Then rose a shout, "Viva el R