as up and singing. Jovita must take her rest, that
she might be in her best humor to enjoy the festivities, and not spoil
them by grumbling. Pepita needed no rest; her little feet danced as she
moved; as she made her preparations for the morning meal she chatted
incessantly to Jose, asking a thousand questions. Everything conspired
to add to her joys. The sky was deep brilliant blue, but there was
a light breeze to make the heat bearable; the birds sang until their
little throats throbbed; the flowers in the garden seemed to have flung
out new masses of bloom to make the small world about them brighter. In
her chamber, near the roof, Pepita's gala dress lay upon her bed, her
new little shoes upon the floor; she had seen them in the moonlight each
time she had awakened in the night. A year ago it would not have seemed
possible that such pretty finery could ever be hers, even in dreams; but
now almost anything seemed possible in this new and enchanting life.

And when she was dressed how bewitching she was! how her rose of a face
glowed and dimpled! how enchanting was the velvet darkness of her eyes!
how airy the poise of her little black head, with its brilliant flower
tucked in at the side of the knot of curly hair! Jovita stared at her
and made a queer half-internal sound of exclamation. It was not her way
to express approval at all freely, and she had no opinion of people who
wasted time in telling girls they were pretty. But Jose looked at
the girl as he might have looked at some rare tropical bird which had
suddenly flown into the house. He looked and looked again, pulling his
mustache, his not always alert face warming.

"Yes, yes," he said, "it all looks very well; that dress is pretty. None
of the other girls will look better. Even Candida--"

Pepita laughed. Candida had been considered a great beauty in the
village they had left, but she knew she was prettier than Candida.

Jose laughed also, though he scarcely knew why. Then with rather a
cautious and uncertain air he produced a gay fan--a cheap one, but
brilliant with color.

"This--" he began.

Pepita caught it from him, and unfurled it with a quick turn of her
wrist. On one side was a picture--a dashing erect figure, in a richly
hued costume.

"It is Sebastiano," said Jose, guiltily.

Pepita nodded her head and smiled.

"I knew it," she said; "I knew he would look like that."

"There is no other man who can slay a bull as he can," said Jose.

"L