d I had spoken of Pilar's only in
connection with Monica.

Anathematizing myself aloud as an ungrateful and ungracious brute, I asked
if Pilar had made up her mind.

"You needn't blame yourself," he said. "All this time she's kept me on
tenter-hooks, because, though she admitted liking me, she couldn't
reconcile her heart with her conscience. I got the dear old Cherub's
blessing, and flaunted it in her face; but that wasn't enough. I also
argued that it was her duty to marry me and try to make me as good as
herself, but she seemed to think it might work out the other way. Then you
disappeared, and the last word she said was that if I found you, she'd
take it as a sign that San Cristobal wanted the match; seems he's a
matchmaking saint, when he's in Spain, as well as a motoring one. So, you
see, she'll have to keep her promise now; and I'll owe my happiness to
you."

"I haven't come back to life in vain, then," I said. "It will be a good
moment for me, whatever happens, when I see my little sister Pilar again."

"She'll be at the royal bull-fight," Dick sighed.

"I thought she hated bull-fights--for Vivillo's sake."

"It's for Vivillo's sake she's going. She's moved heaven and earth to get
invitations."

"And she's succeeded."

"Thereby hangs a tale. But I'm not going to bother you with it."

I insisted, urging him the more to atone for past carelessness.

"Well, then," he said with another sigh, "Vivillo's fifth bull in the
royal fight to-day."

I was shocked, knowing how Pilar loved the noble brown beast, and how she
had counted on possessing him. But, if I had had my wits about me, I might
have guessed last night how matters stood. Dick had told me then that, in
the impromptu scene between Carmona and the O'Donnels, with Seville
railway station for the stage, "the name of Vivillo had unfortunately come
up." Now, Dick explained that Carmona had caught at the girl's hasty
words, had written his agent at the _ganaderia_ instructing him not to
part with the bull at any price, no matter how far negotiations had gone
with Colonel O'Donnel. A day or two later the agent was directed by
telegram to send Vivillo immediately to Madrid, as the Duke had offered
him as a gift for the great show of the royal bull-fight. This news had
come to Pilar at Granada in an ill-spelled, but well-meaning letter from
Mateo, the _ganadero_.

"It was sheer spite," went on Dick, "and Pilar was broken-hearted. If she
hadn't blurted o