r in practising a duet of Bellini's with Dona Feliciana
Vasquez de los Rios. This young lady, still in her teens, moderately
pretty and tolerably rich, Andres had from childhood been affianced
with, and was accustomed to consider as his future wife, although his
sentiments towards her were, in fact, of a very tepid description.
Betrothed as children by their parents, there was little real love
between them: they met without pleasure and parted without pain; their
engagement was an affair of habit, not of the heart.

It was a _dia de toros_, as Monday is called in Madrid--that being the
day when bull-fights usually take place--and Andres, passionately
addicted to the Spanish sport, left the mansion of his mistress without
any lover-like reluctance, and hurried to the bull-ring. Through the
spacious street of Alcala, then crowded to suffocation with vehicles of
every description, horsemen, and pedestrians, all hurrying to the point
of grand attraction, the young man pressed onward with that alert and
active step peculiar to Spaniards--unquestionably the best walkers in
the world--joyfully fingering his ticket of _Sombra por la tarde_.[11]
It entitled him to a place close to the barrier; for Andres, despising
the elegance of the boxes, preferred leaning against the ropes intended
to prevent the bulls from leaping amongst the spectators. Thence each
detail of the combat is distinctly seen, each blow appreciated at its
just value; and in consideration of these advantages, Andres willingly
resigned his elbows to the contact of motley-jacketed muleteers, and his
curls to the perfume of the manolo's cigar.

Although a bridegroom-elect ought not, strictly speaking, to perceive
the existence of other women than his intended, such scrupulous fidelity
is very rare except in romances: and Don Andres, albeit descended
neither from Don Juan Tenorio nor Don Juan de Marana, was led to the
circus by other attractions besides the brave swordsmanship of Luca
Blanco and of Montes' nephew. At the bull-fight on the previous Monday
he had seen a young girl of rare and singular beauty, whose features had
imprinted themselves on his memory with a minuteness and indelibility
quite extraordinary, considering the short time he had been able to
observe them. So casual a meeting should have left no more trace than
the picture to which one accords a passing glance. No word or sign had
been exchanged between Andres and the manola, (she apparently belon