is so pretty," said Isabella. "She is so much
prettier than all the others, and she does not care."

"A woman who is so pretty as that," remarked Juan, sententiously, "need
not care."

"She says," put in Isabella, "that if she does not care, others will;
but if she should care, the others--" She stopped, meeting Sebastiano's
eyes and becoming a little confused.

"What would happen then," he said, "if she should care?"

"I do not know," said Isabella; "but she never will--never."

But if she changed often toward others, Sebastiano found no change in
her mood toward him. They did not leave the gardens until late in the
day. Jovita was enjoying too greatly the comradeship of her old woman,
and was ready to enjoy any pleasure offered to her. Sebastiano had a
full purse, and perhaps understood old women of Jovita's class. He made
himself very agreeable to these two, finding them the most comfortable
seats and supplying them with things good to eat and drink, over which
they gossiped together, leaving the young ones to amuse themselves as
they pleased. They were very gay, the younger ones; even Manuel, elated
by the presence and hospitalities of Sebastiano, made little jokes. But
none of them were gayer than Pepita. She was the centre figure of
the party; they all looked at her, listened to her, were led by her
slightest caprice. They went here and there, did this or that, because
she wished it. It was Sebastiano who was the host of the hour, but by
instinct each knew it was Pepita who was the chief guest--who must be
pleased.

"Is she pleased?" the matador asked Jose once in a low-toned aside.
"Does she not entertain herself?"

"Does she not say so?" answered Jose, with some slight secret misgiving.

"I do not know," said Sebastiano, looking down. "She does not speak to
me."

Jose pushed his hat aside and rubbed his forehead. His respect for
Pepita's whims had begun early in life and was founded on experience.

"She is young," he faltered--"she is very young. When she enjoys herself
she--"

He paused with an uneasy movement of his shoulders. It was quite
terrible to him that she should treat with such caprice and disdain so
splendid and heroic a person; but he knew there was nothing to be done.

"She admires you," he said, with courageous mendacity. "She saw you at
the bullfight."

"She will be there again? You will take her--the next time?" said
Sebastiano.

"Yes," answered Jose. "She has asked that I will