y coils of her hair, to which there yet clung a few stars
of jasmine. There was the shadow of a smile on her lips, and she was
humming a tune.

"What does he want with Jose--this Sebastiano?" said Jovita,
grumblingly.

"Who knows?" said Pepita.

"He wants something," Jovita went on. "They don't make friends with
those beneath them for nothing, these fine ones. They all talk of you,
these foolish fellows, and he has heard, and makes friends so that he
can see you."

"What do they say of me?" asked

Pepita, without deigning to look up.

"Men are all fools," grumbled Jovita; "and they think girls are fools
too. They say you have a pretty face; and he thinks he can make a fool
of you if you are not one."

"Does he?" said Pepita, with a dimpling cruel little smile. "Let him
come to-morrow--to-night. Let him begin."

"He will begin soon enough," Jovita answered. "You will see. Be sure he
does not play the old game with you as he did with Sarita."

[Illustration: Shook the small stray blossoms out of her hair 069]

Pepita shook the small stray blossoms out of her hair and began to
retwist the coil, breaking into singing in a clear voice:

"White, white is the jasmine flower;
Let its stars light thee
Here to my casement,
Where I await thee.
White, white is the jasmine flower,
Sweet, sweet is the heart of the rose,
Sweet my mouth's blossom--"

She stopped short and dropped her arms.

"See," she said, "let him want what he will, let him come a thousand
times, and I will never speak to him."

In the gardens the next Sunday they met him. Pepita was talking to
a young girl whose name was Isabella, and whose brother. Juan was
following in the footsteps of Manuel and the rest. It was Isabella who
first saw the matador, and uttered an exclamation.

"Your brother is coming," she cried, "with--yes, with Sebastiano."

Jose's simple face was on fire with delight, but Sebastiano looked less
gay, and his step was less carelessly buoyant than it had been in the
bull-ring. As he approached the group he looked only at Pepita. But
Pepita looked only at Jose, her eyes laughing.

"Jovita is cross," she said; "she has been asking for you. She wishes to
go home."

Sebastiano's eyes were fastened upon her face, upon her red lips, as she
spoke. He had heard that she was like this; that she gave her glances to
no man; that she was prettier than the rose in bloom, and as cruel as
a youn