soothed him and made him content to ruminate without words.

Jovita fell asleep. She always fell asleep out-of-doors on the warm
summer nights, and in-doors by the fire when it was winter. Pepita
ceased to talk, and sang one little song after another; then she even
ceased to sing, and only touched her guitar softly now and then. After a
while Jose, who had stretched himself upon a bench, fell asleep also.

Pepita ceased to touch her guitar. She looked out at the flowers
sleeping in the moonlight, and for a few minutes was very still; then
she laid the guitar down and stepped out into the brightness.

In the light of the moon one cannot see the color in a face. Perhaps
this was why hers seemed to be gone. She looked quite pale, and her
lovely little brows were drawn together until they made a black line
across her forehead. She clasped her hands behind her head, and with her
face a little thrown back, so that the light fell full upon it, wandered
out among the trees and fragrant flowering things. She liked the jasmine
best, and over one part of the low, rough wall there climbed one which
blossomed with a myriad stars. So she went and stood by it, and looked
now at it, now up and down the road, which the moon had made into a path
of snow.

And as she stood there, suddenly there started up on the other side of
the wall the figure she knew so well, and the next moment it had vaulted
over and was close to her. Sebastiano!

She stood still, her hands still clasped behind her head, her face still
upturned, and looked at him.

[Illustration: Her hands still clasped behind her head 107]

He folded his arms and looked at her. As for him, whether the moonlight
was to blame or not, he was as pale as death.

"Yes," he said, "you are always the same. You do not change. One may
come at any hour. But listen to me. You think I have come to reproach
you. Why should I? I have fought bulls, but that does not teach men how
to deal with women. I thought that, if a man gave you his soul and his
life and the breath of his body, you would listen some day and let him
think of you. You are a woman, and you are made to be loved; but there
is something hard in your heart. You are proud of having mocked a man
who was honest and loved you. But hear me: it is better, after all, to
be less pretty and more a woman."

He stopped an instant. She had changed her position, and stood by the
jasmine, stripping the blossoms from it one by one. She b