he bounds of my fondest expectations, and I
was accordingly more grieved than surprised when she failed to appear.
As I was going out, a few minutes before the close of the service, a
rather well-dressed woman in the archway mumbled an appeal for alms.

Struck by her lack of dirt and tatters, I stopped. She repeated her
appeal, this time in a clear tone, though without opening the veiling
folds of her _rebozo_. It seemed to me I recognized the voice of Chita.
At once I held out a coin to her. In reaching for it, she covered my
hand with the edge of her _rebozo_, beneath which I felt a note being
slipped into my palm.

She turned away, with a shrill blessing upon the generous _Inglese_,
while I dropped my half-closed hand to my side, thrust it into my pocket
and left the note, to draw out a copper for the foremost of the wretched
_leprosos_ who came flocking about the rich foreigner. This time I was
provided with a quantity of the smallest coins of the realm, and
scattered two or three handfuls to right and left. While the beggars
swarmed after the coppers like a flock of fowls over their grain, I
slipped around the nearest corner of the church to read my precious
note. It was short but full of promise:--

"Do not go to the promenade. Feign illness. The _Parroquia_ at
nine o'clock to-night."

The _Parroquia_?--at nine in the evening? It was an appointment to meet
her! Yet how could she escape the watchful eyes of Dona Marguerite and
Don Pedro, even should they, as was most improbable, take her out to the
promenade?

However, I concluded that I could safely trust to her wit and courage to
bring about the meeting. My problem was how to fill the weary hours and
minutes which lay between. I wandered aimlessly about the city, stopping
now and then to watch the gambling with dice and cards, which, though
prohibited by His Excellency, is too deeply seated in the natures of
these people to be eradicated.

Intense as were these games, where men and even women staked their
little all with passionate abandon, the excitement was far greater and
the betting higher at the numerous cock-fights. I looked on at
one,--which was enough and to spare. Man has a right to kill for food,
but none other than the cruel and brutal enjoys the torment of his
fellow creatures.

A gay dinner at the house of Dona Maria Cabrera helped to pass over the
day until the siesta. But throughout the long hours of the afternoon
rest I could on