et him slay them," answered Pepita. And she stood and waved her fan
with the prettiest inscrutable air in the world.

The journey to the Plaza de Toros was almost as delightful as the
bull-fight itself to Pepita. The streaming crowds of people, all bent
in one direction, and all in their gayest dress and mood, laughing,
jostling each other, chatting, exchanging salutations and jokes, the
grand carriages rolling by with fine ladies and gentlemen in them, the
rattling old diligences, omnibuses, and _tartanes_, whose passengers
seemed more hilarious than the occupants of the more splendid equipages,
the ringing of mule bells, the shouts of drivers, the cracking whips,
the sunshine, the color, the very dust itself, all added to the
excitement of the hour. And as they made their way through the throng,
it was again as it had been that first Sunday at the Paseo de la Virgen
del Puerto, heads turned and exclamations were uttered when Pepita
went by. And somehow it seemed that Jose was better known than even he
himself had imagined, he received so many greetings. The truth was that
already those who had seen the girl had spoken of her among themselves
and to others, their readily fired Spanish natures aflame and elate. And
those who had not seen, but only heard of her, were in as susceptible
a condition as the more fortunate ones. She had been graphically and
dramatically described again and again, so that by many a one she was
recognized as "the pretty sister of Jose."

That was what they called her--"the pretty sister of Jose." She heard
it half a dozen times, but never once even so much as lifted her long
lashes. She was so used to admiration that it was as if they spoke of
some one else, and it moved her not in the least, as she sat watching
the bulls, to know that bold or languishing eyes dwelt upon her face,
and that efforts were being constantly made to attract her attention.

It was a magnificent day--every one said so; there were splendid bulls
and splendid dresses, and the fighters were in superb condition. The
people were in good spirits too--the little breeze tempering the heat
had, perhaps, something to do with it. Everything pleased them; they
applauded wildly, and uttered shouts of encouragement and delight
to bulls and toreadors alike. The grand people were richly attired;
beautiful ladies watched with excited eyes the bulls, wearing their
colors in rosettes of satin and glittering tinsel; the thousands of
wav