"I shall not ask," he said. "You would do no wrong. You are a good girl;
but--"

"You think I have gone mad," she said, with a sudden change of voice
and a piteous little shiver. "Who knows? Perhaps some one has cast the
evil-eye upon me. But I have done no harm, and I shall do none."

"No," he said, rather stupidly. "You would do no harm. Let us go in,
then."

And without another word they went into the house, Pepita to her bed
to be awake and gaze at the darkness, Jose to sit with his head in his
hands and thinking a thousand wild thoughts until he fell asleep.

He could not know that where he had been she had been also; that when
the snatches of song had been sung she had heard them; that when the
people had talked of Sebastiano she had listened; that when Sebastiano
had stood in the bright light she had stood in the shadow and watched.
She had not thought of danger or of being discovered. She had only
thought of one thing and listened for one thing--and once she had heard
this thing discussed by some chattering young chulos.

[Illustration: She is a pretty young girl 151]

"She is a pretty young girl," they said. "Not as pretty as that other,
but handsome enough. She was a little devil, that other. But it is a
mistake for a man like him to marry. How can a man feel free to risk his
life gayly when he has a woman hung about his neck?"

"He will not," she whispered, growing hot all over. "No, he has not
forgotten. I have given the little heart and the flowers and candles.
And he could not forget while I--He will come back."

She struggled with the passionate persistence of a child. Since she
would not give him up, he was hers.

But she did not know what to do. There was nothing but to wait in this
fever of strange misery and unrest, which grew more cruel every day;
and at the bull-fight if he would only look--perhaps--yes, if he saw her
face, he would understand and come.

In the days before the great entertainment took place she was like
some little savage creature at bay. She could scarcely bear to hear
the voices of those who spoke to her. Once she went into the church and
threw herself upon her knees as usual, but when she looked up her eyes
were fierce.

"If he does not come," she cried to the waxen Virgin, "I will pray to
you no more--no more."

She knew that it was blasphemy, but she did not care; and before she
went home she bought a sharp little knife and hid it in her breast.

"This," she