the barest necessaries of life, it had not the chill and
dreary look of misery. A cheerful gleam illuminated it; the red brick
floor was gay and pleasant to the eye; there was no shade on the white
walls, or cobweb on the raftered roof--all was fresh, and bright, and
cheerful in the poor garret. In England it would have been perfect
destitution, in Spain it was almost comfort, and more than was
necessary for happiness.

The old woman was at last at the top of the stairs; she entered the room
and let herself fall upon one of the two chairs, which cracked under her
weight. "The water jar, Militona, for mercy's sake! I am half suffocated
with the heat and dust; and those accursed lozenges have put my throat
in a flame."

"You should not have eaten so many, _tia_," said the young girl,
smiling, and placing the jar to the old lady's lips. Aldonsa drank
eagerly, passed the back of her hand over her mouth, and fanned herself
in silence.

"Talking of lozenges," said she after a pause, "how furiously Juancho
looked at us! I am sure he missed the bull because that young spark
spoke to you. Juancho is jealous as a tiger, and if he has fallen in
with yonder pretty gentleman, he will have made him repent his
gallantry. I would not give much for the young man's skin; it will have
some famous holes in it. Do you remember the slash he gave Luca, for
offering you a nosegay at the festival of San Isidro?"

"I hope Juancho will commit no violence," exclaimed the young
girl--"What frightful slavery to be thus persecuted by his ferocious
love!"

"It is your fault," retorted Aldonsa. "Why are you so pretty?"

A sharp rap at the door, sounding as if given by an iron finger,
interrupted the conversation. The old woman got up and looked through
the little grating, inserted, according to Spanish custom, in the centre
of the door. Through the bars appeared the countenance of Juancho, pale
beneath the bronzed tint with which the sun of the arena had overlaid
it. Aldonsa opened the door and the torero entered. His features
betrayed the violent emotions that had agitated him in the bull-ring. To
the shame of having been hissed was superadded rage at not having
quitted the circus soon enough to overtake the young man who had been so
attentive to Militona. Where could he now find him? Doubtless he had
followed the manola and spoken to her again. And at the thought,
Juancho's hand mechanically sank to his girdle to seek his knife.

The torero