women wore hats,
but they were nearly all veiled, and the carriages were burdened with
seductive figures in wide dresses of perfumed white waving slow fans.

There was, however, little conversation between the men on foot and
the women carefully cultivating expressions of remote unconcern.
Rarely, if she were accompanied by a masculine member of her family, a
woman came to earth for a short stroll in the gardens. Charles was
absolutely inattentive to them, but his companions, particularly Tirso
and Jaime, noted and, with dismaying freedom, commented on every
feminine detail that struck their fancy. It was Tirso who excitedly
called their attention to one of the new volantas in which sat La
Clavel. Ceaza y Santacilla was not with her; the place at her side was
occupied by the man to whom Jaime had spoken about the dancer in the
Tuileries. Quintara, capturing his attention, spoke in his profoundest
manner. There was a halt in the movement of carriages, and La Clavel
was directly before them.

She wore the high comb and a mantilla of black lace falling in
scalloped folds around the vivid flower of her face--her beauty, at
least to Charles, was so extraordinary, her dark loveliness was so
flaming, that the scarlet camellia in her hair seemed wan. They were,
all four, presented to the dancer; and four extreme bows, four fervid
and sonorous acknowledgments, rose to the grace, the divinity, above.
It seemed to Charles that, perhaps because he was an American, La
Clavel noticed him more than the others: certainly she smiled at him
and the brilliancy of her gaze was veiled, made enigmatic, by the
lowering of her sweeping eyelashes.

The checked restlessness of the horses was again released in a
deliberate progress, but, as La Clavel was carried on, the man with
her added that, after Retreta, they would stop at the El Louvre for an
ice cream, a mantecado. Remigio Florez drew in a deep breath which he
allowed to escape in the form of a sigh; Jaime smoothed the wrists of
his bright yellow gloves; Tirso Labrador settled his guardsman's
shoulders into his coat. "She won't get out of the volanta," Charles
said thoughtfully; "and someone will have to bring out her refresco.
We'd better get there early and stand at the door."

"No hurry," the suave Jaime put in; "no one will leave here until
after tattoo."

At nine o'clock the drums and bugles sounded from various parts of the
city. There was one more tune played directly under th