"But why?"

"Because, now I shouldn't need to be afraid of him."

"Afraid of him! Surely you are not that?"

"Well, no--not exactly afraid--still--"

She speaks hesitatingly, and in disjointed phrases, her head drooping
down. Then a quick change comes over her countenance, and, bending
closer to the other, she asks, "Can I trust you with a confidence,
Inez?"

"Why need you ask that? You've already trusted me with one--in telling
me you love Don Eduardo."

"Now I give you another--by telling you I once loved Don Francisco."

"Indeed!"

"No, no!" rejoins Carmen quickly, and as half-repenting the avowal.
"Not _loved_ him--that's not true, I only _came near it_."

"And now?"

"I hate him!"

"Why, may I ask? What has changed you?"

"That's easily answered. When I first met him I was younger than now; a
mere girl, full of girlish fancies--romantic, as called. I thought him
handsome; and in a sense so he is. In person, you'll admit, he's all
man may, or need, be--a sort of Apollo, or Hyperion. But in mind--ah,
Inez, that man is a very Satyr--in heart and soul a Mephistopheles."

"But why should you be afraid of him?"

Carmen does not reply promptly. Clearly, she has not yet bestowed the
whole of her confidence. There is something withheld.

Inez, whose sympathies are now enlisted, presses for _the_ explanation.

"Carmen--dear Carmen! tell me what it is. Have you ever given Don
Francisco a claim to call you his _novia_?"

"Never! Neither that, nor anything of the kind. He has no claim, and I
no compromise. The only thing I've reason to regret is, having listened
to his flattering speeches without resenting them."

"Pst! What does that signify? Why, Don Faustino has made flattering
speeches to me--scores of them--called me all sorts of endearing names--
does so whenever we two are together alone. I only laugh at him."

"Ah! Faustino Calderon is not Francisco de Lara. They are men of very
different dispositions. In the behaviour of your admirer there's only a
little of the ludicrous; in that of mine, there may be a great deal of
danger. But let us cease discussing them. There's no time for that
now. The question is, are they coming to call on us?"

"I think there can be no question about it. Very likely they've heard
that we're soon going away, and are about to honour us with a farewell
visit."

"Supposing they should stay till our English friends arrive!"

"Let them--who cares