ged
to that class,) who had been separated by several benches. Andres had no
reason to believe that the young girl had remarked his admiration, or
even perceived him. Her eyes, fixed upon the arena, had not for an
instant wandered from the incidents of the bull-fight, in which she
appeared to take an exclusive interest. It would have been natural to
forget her on the threshold of the circus; but, instead of that, her
image had haunted Andres all the week, recurring perpetually to his
memory with increased distinctness and perseverance. And it was a vague
hope, unacknowledged even to himself, of beholding the lovely manola,
that now doubled his usual impatience to reach the scene of the
bull-fight.

At the very moment Andres passed under one of the three arcades of the
gate of Alcala, a _calesin_, or light calash, dashed through the crowd,
amidst a concert of curses and hisses, the usual sounds with which the
Spanish populace assail whatever deranges them in their pleasures, and
infringes upon the sovereignty of the pedestrian. This vehicle was of
outrageous magnificence. The body, borne by two enormous scarlet wheels,
was covered with groups of Cupids, and with Anacreontic attributes, such
as lyres, tambourines, Pandaean pipes, cooing doves, and hearts pierced
with arrows, executed at some remote period by a pencil more remarkable
for audacity than correctness of design. The mule harnessed to this
gaudy car, had the upper half of his body closely clipped, bore a lofty
panoply of coloured worsted upon his head, and was covered with bells
from nose to tail. A ferocious-looking charioteer, stripped to his
shirt-sleeves, a sheepskin jacket dangling from his shoulder, sat
sideways upon the shaft, and belaboured with his whip-handle the lean
flanks of his beast, which sprang forward with redoubled fury at each
repetition of the stimulant.

There was nothing remarkable in the appearance of such a vehicle on a
Monday afternoon at the Alcala gate; and if we have honoured it with
especial notice, it is because, upon beholding it, the countenance of
Don Andres was illumined by an expression, of the most agreeable
surprise. The cabriolet contained two persons: one of these was a little
old woman, in an antiquated black dress, whose gown, too short by an
inch, disclosed the hem of one of those yellow woolen petticoats
commonly worn by Castilian peasants. This venerable creature belonged to
the class of women known in Spain as _Tia