to take as keen an interest as they did themselves. Thereupon
the majority of the young men, darting furious glances of jealousy at
one another, prepared for the contest. Rosita, at her uncle's side,
stood at one end of the room. At her right and left were grouped the
young peasant girls, admiring without envy the queen of the _fete_, and
forming her court. Stephano stood behind with dejected mien. Those with
guitars touched their instruments lightly now and then, and upon this
scene, worthy of the pencil of Leopold Roberts, the sun, now setting at
the horizon, cast a calm and solemn light.

The first peasant who came forward was a tall young man, with a ruddy
complexion.

"My name is Geronimo Caldaroz, and I am twenty-five. It has been the
talk of the village why I did not marry, and it has been said it was
because I had never yet seen a maiden beautiful enough to please me. But
now I have found her; it is you, Rosita. Will you accept my bouquet?" He
presented his bouquet to the young girl, who blushed as she received it,
and then let it fall.

"Refused! Refused!" whispered the spectators, whilst the young man
disappeared into the crowd, and a second one took his place. But the
same thing occurred, and with the same result. Soon the jasmine bouquets
covered the ground round the young girl's feet. The rejected suitors
multiplied so fast that they could no longer hide their discomfiture
amongst the others. Restless and smiling, Don Pedro wondered why his
niece was so severe, and the remaining suitors seemed to hesitate
whether to advance into the lists or not. Then the last three timidly
advanced one by one toward Rosita. The two first were not even heard to
the end of their speech, and then all eyes were fixed with interest upon
the last. Rosita let him finish his discourse, took his bouquet, which
she scrutinized demurely, and then uttering a deep sigh let it fall upon
the amorous trophy piled at her feet.

A murmur rose amongst the stupefied villagers. Don Pedro approached his
niece.

"Well, my child," he said, "have you thought of what you have done?"

"Yes, uncle," Rosita replied. "Did you not tell me yourself that I was
perfectly free?"

"Free to choose, without doubt; but not to send all your suitors away."

Rosita cast down her eyes and made no reply.

"Pardon me, father, but there still remains one," said Stephano,
breaking the silence.

"Where is he?" everyone asked at once.

"Here he is."

Ros