tranger,' thought Josephine
to herself--'it will serve to amuse me.' And then she burst into a merry
laugh, as she replied--

'I have no objection in the world, sir, to your sharing this grotto with
me; but really, you make a great mistake--you suppose me to be a lady;
but I'm no more a lady than you are, don't you see that I'm a _boy_?'

'Indeed!--a _boy_!' Exclaimed the stranger, surveying Josephine with
great interest. 'By heaven, I took you for a female; and though you are
a boy, I will say that you are an extremely pretty one.'

He entered into the grotto, and seated himself at her side. Taking her
hand, he said--

'This hand is wonderfully fair and soft for a boy's. Confess, now--are
you not deceiving me?'

'Why should I deceive you?' asked Josephine--'if my hand is fair and
soft, it is because I have been brought up as a gentleman, and it has
never become soiled or hardened by labor.'

'And yet,' rejoined the stranger, passing his hand over the swelling
outlines of her bosom, which no disguise could entirely conceal--'there
seems to me to be something feminine in these pretty proportions.'

'You doubtless think so,' replied Josephine, removing his hand--'but you
greatly err. The fact is, my appearance is naturally very effeminate,
and sometimes it is my whim to encourage the belief that I am a female.
I came here to-night, resolved to produce that impression; and you see
with what a successful result--you yourself imagined me to be a lady
dressed in male attire, but again I assure you that you never were more
mistaken in your life. The fullness of my bosom is accounted for, when I
inform you that my vest is very skillfully _padded_. So now I hope you
will be no longer skeptical in regard to my true sex.'

'I no longer doubt you, my dear boy,' said the stranger, gazing at
Josephine with increased admiration. 'Were you a lady, you would be
beautiful, but as a boy you are doubly charming. Be not surprised when I
assure you that you please me ten times--aye, ten thousand times more,
as a boy, than as a woman. By heaven, I must kiss those ripe lips!'

'Kiss _me_!' responded Josephine, laughing--'come, sire, this is too
good--you must be joking.'

'No, beautiful boy, I am serious,' exclaimed the stranger,
vehemently--'you may pronounce my passion strange, unaccountable, and
absurd, if you will--but 'tis none the less violent or sincere. I am a
native of Spain, a country whose ardent souls confine not their