he would have seen that Carmen played the
guitar badly because she was not interested in Jean Jacques' singing.
He would have known that she had come to that stage in her married
life when the tenure is pitifully insecure. He would have seen that
the crisis was near. If he had had any real observation he would have
noticed that Carmen's eyes at once kindled, and that the guitar became
a different thing, when M. Colombin, the young schoolmaster, one of the
guests, caught up the refrain of A la Claire Fontaine, and in a soft
tenor voice sang it with Jean Jacques to the end, and then sang it again
with Zoe. Then Carmen's dark eyes deepened with the gathering light in
them, her body seemed to vibrate and thrill with emotion; and when M.
Colombin and Zoe ceased, with her eyes fixed on the distance, and as
though unconscious of them all, she began to sing a song of Cadiz which
she had not sung since boarding the Antoine at Bordeaux. Her mind had,
suddenly flown back out of her dark discontent to the days when all life
was before her, and, with her Gonzales, she had moved in an atmosphere
of romance, adventure and passion.

In a second she was transformed from the wife of the brown money-master
to the girl she was when she came to St. Saviour's from the plaza,
where her Carvillho Gonzales was shot, with love behind her and memory
blazoned in the red of martyrdom. She sang now as she had not sung for
some years. Her guitar seemed to leap into life, her face shone with the
hot passion of memory, her voice rang with the pain of a disappointed
life:

"Granada, Granada, thy gardens are gay,
And bright are thy stars, the high stars above;
But as flowers that fade and are gray,
But as dusk at the end of the day,
Are ye to the light in the eyes of my love
In the eyes, in the soul, of my love.

"Granada, Granada, oh, when shall I see
My love in thy gardens, there waiting for me?

"Beloved, beloved, have pity, and make
Not the sun shut its eyes, its hot, envious eyes,
And the world in the darkness of night
Be debtor to thee for its light.
Turn thy face, turn thy face from the skies
To the love, to the pain in my eyes.

"Granada, Granada, oh, when shall I see
My love in thy gardens, there waiting for me!"

From that night forward she had been restless and petulant and like one
watching and waiting. It seem