sked if I
was the young lad she met near Puno and if it was possible that I had
grown to manhood and learned to speak Spanish? When I reassured her,
the look of astonishment gave way to an exclamation of joy.

The play was forgotten. We only talked of our first meeting. She
asked if I was staying in Arequipa and on learning that I was,
promised that we should meet again, as her father had decided to
remain there for some time. I was delighted but felt somewhat
disturbed because of the young man in the box with her. When I began
to talk to Felicita he moved his seat farther away. The Peruvians are
the acme of politeness.

The play being over, I assisted Felicita with her wraps. Her father
then introduced me to Don Rodrigo Garcia, a fellow traveller whom they
had met on their journey from Cusco to Arequipa.

I was not particularly well pleased with the young man. First
impressions sometimes give rise to doubt and distrust. It was so with
me in this instance. Don Julian insisted on my going home with them. I
walked with Felicita on one side and Don Julian on the other, Don
Rodrigo walking just ahead of me. Their home was on Calle Mercaderes,
one of the prettiest squares of the city. Like most Peruvian homes,
the house was of adobe with flat roof and partitions of plastered
cane. It contained six rooms. In the windows were heavy iron bars,
like all houses of the better class. They were very serviceable, for
Spanish lovers do their courting between the window bars. The girl
sits beside the window and her wooer stands in the street; the parents
sometimes invite him in. Should he request the company of the girl to
the play or to any entertainment, the invitation must include the
whole family. This custom in the larger cities is dying out, but in
the inland cities it is still adhered to.

Arriving at the door, I bade Felicita and her father good night with
the assurance that I would dine with them the next day. Don Rodrigo
also was invited. His hotel was on my way and I accompanied him. He
was splendid company, and after reaching his hotel I accepted his
invitation to a light lunch. Afterwards we enjoyed a cigar and some
rich old wine, but still I could not overcome the aversion I first
formed for him.

The following day, long before the appointed time for dinner, I was
dressed and ready. Chico, a half-breed Indian, whom I had rendered a
service one time when he was being set upon by some of his own people,
and who after