re and there one could hear snatches of song of which his
name was the refrain. It was only because he so loved his own people
that he had refused the magnificent offers made by the King of America.
He had refused them; he had chosen to remain in Spain. He had come to
Madrid. Soon he would appear before them again. He had even gained in
strength and dexterity; and as to his good looks--ah! what a dashing,
handsome fellow!

Jose had the good luck to see him again, even to speak to him. What
fortune--what happiness! The honest fellow felt himself overjoyed. They
were to be friends again.

It was quite late when he found himself walking homeward over the white
road again. He had drunk wine enough to make him feel quite gay; and
as he went he sang now and then a verse of a song about the joys of the
bull-fight.

When he was about half-way home he thought he heard behind him the sound
of rapid feet--light feet running. He stopped and looked back. What was
it he saw, or thought he saw? Was it a small dark shape which flitted
instantly into the shadow of the trees? It looked like a woman who did
not wish to be seen. Well, he would not look, then. What was the use of
giving her trouble? He tramped on, perhaps a little more slowly. It was
late for a woman to be out on the lonely road alone. It must be past
midnight. Then the thought came to him that perhaps she wished to pass
him. In that case he might look the other way, on the opposite side of
the road. In fact, he crossed to the other side to leave the way clear,
and went on good-naturedly, singing his song loudly and all out of
tune. Yes, he had been right. Soon the footsteps drew nearer; the shadow
within the shadow slipped past--ran swiftly. But by that time they were
nearing his home, and there was a stretch of road unshaded by anything.
The shadow hesitated, darted across the white space, and Jose, seeing it
in the full light, uttered a cry, and started in pursuit. In but a
few moments he had reached it and held it by the arm, feeling all the
slender body breathless and panting.

[Illustration: The slender body breathless and panting 147]

"Pepita!" he cried. "It is you?"

She let the mantilla drop from her face and stood and looked at him.

"Yes," she answered, "it is Pepita; and you need not ask--I will not
tell you. I have been to--to look at something--and I will tell you
nothing."

He put his hand up and rubbed his forehead violently. Then he let it
drop.