was sharply
marked. The music was seductive, unlike any Kit had heard in England, and
he thought it tinged by the melancholy the Moors had brought, long since,
from the East to Spain.

At one end of the patio, groups of young men and women moved through the
changing figures of an old Spanish dance. Their poses were strangely
graceful, and some had a touch of stateliness. This vanished when the
music changed and the well-balanced figures, raising bent arms, danced
with riotous abandon. In a minute or two the melancholy note was struck
again and the movements were marked by dignified reserve. Kit got a hint
of Southern passion and, by contrast, of the austerity that often goes
with Indian blood.

In the meantime, he noted the play of moving color, for the women wore
white and pink and yellow. Some had flowers in their dark hair and some
covered their heads with a lace mantilla. The men's clothes were varied,
for a number wore shabby uniforms, and others white linen with red silk
sashes, while a few had chosen the plain black, and wide sombrero, of the
Spanish don.

At the other end of the patio, portly senoras with powdered faces sat
among the pillars, and grave, dark-skinned citizens moved about the
pavement in talking groups. A heavily-built man with a very swarthy color
and thick lips went to and fro among them, bowing and smiling, and Kit
knew this was Galdar, the president's rival. Kit did not like the fellow
and thought his negro strain was marked. He looked sensual, cruel, and
cunning. For the most part, the president stood outside the crowd,
although now and then a group formed about him. He was tall and thin, his
face was inscrutable, and Kit thought he looked lonely and austere.

By and by an officer Kit had met told him he must dance and took him
along the arcade. The officer stopped where two girls sat under a string
of lamps, with a man in black clothes and a fat old woman behind. At
first, Kit could not see them well, but when they got up he started as he
recognized the girl who had dropped the flower. Then he tried to hide his
embarrassment as he was presented to Senorita Francisca Sarmiento. She
was handsomer than he had thought and as she made him a stately curtsey
her eyes twinkled.

Kit imagined the other girl studied him carefully and wondered whether
she knew about the flower. It was, however, his duty to ask the senorita
to dance, and after a few moments they crossed the pavement. Kit had some