arm beneath her _rebozo_ as
though to adjust its folds, and the fringed edge swept over my hat,
which I was holding at my hip. A slight tug at its brim induced me to
look down, after a moment's prudent wait. Within the hat's crown lay a
scrap of paper upon which was written, in French, the single word,
"Follow."

My height and dress, and the fact that I was one of the _Americanos_
about whom the city was so curious, made me a marked man in the crowd.
But if any among the hundreds of interested eyes that followed my
movements had for owners some who suspected the purpose of my visit to
the church, I flatter myself the sharpest were unable to distinguish
which one of the ladies it was I followed into the open. To divert
attention I glanced about at the peeping senoritas with feigned
interest, until one angel-faced little coquette who could not yet have
seen her sixteenth springtime fairly stared me out of countenance.

Once in the plaza, I had more room to man[oe]uvre, and started off at an
angle to the course taken by Alisanda and her friend. To my chagrin I
was at once surrounded by a tattered crowd of filthy _leprosos_, who
exposed their sores and whined dolefully for alms. I flung them the few
coppers I chanced to have with me, but that served only to whet the edge
of their persistent begging. Suddenly I remembered that Don Pedro had
given me the Spanish method for relieving oneself from these _caballeros
de Dios_.

"Gentlemen," I addressed them in my best Spanish, "for God's sake,
excuse me this time."

Even a few drops of Spanish blood carries with it appreciation of
ceremonious courtesy. My words and the bow with which I accompanied them
acted like magic upon the clamoring rabble. All alike bowed in response,
with a great flourishing of greasy, tattered sombreros, and all alike
stepped politely aside for me to pass.

The delay had given Alisanda and Dona Dolores several yards' start of
me, but they were now sauntering so slowly that nearly all the members
of the congregation who had turned in the same direction had gone by
them. I followed several paces behind the last chattering, giggling
group. As they passed Dona Dolores she dropped her rosary. This I judged
was intended as a signal for me to join them. I picked up the string of
polished beads, and hastened forward beside their owner.

"Pardon me, madame," I said in French, holding out the rosary, "you
dropped your necklace."

"_Santisima Virgen!_" she