Part 4 (1/2)

A wicked little look came into her face. She turned as if to take up her water jar. But Sebastiano laid his hand upon it.

”You will not speak,” he said pa.s.sionately. ”No; nor even look at the flowers I bring you. You shall tell me at least what I have done. Come, now. Am I a devil? What is it?”

She put her hands behind her back and fixed her great eyes upon him for a moment. He could not say now that she had not looked at him. He thought he could keep her, did he, when she did not choose to stay? She, Pepita! She stood there staring at him for a moment, and then turned about and walked off, leaving him with her water jar. Let him stand and watch over it all day if he would.

She went back to the house and called Jovita.

”If you want your water now,” she said, ”you will have to go to the well for it. It is drawn, and Senor Sebastiano is taking care of it.”

”Mother of G.o.d!” said Jovita, staring, ”she is mad with her Senor Sebastiano.”

But not another word could she gain, and before she could reach the well she met a boy carrying the water jar toward the house, and was told that he had been paid to bring it.

They went to the bull-fight; and, as Pepita sat among the rest, out-blooming the red flower in her hair, she heard it said that Sebastiano had never before been so magnificent, had never shown such daring and dexterity.

”He looks at Pepita,” said Isabella to Carlos. ”When he entered, his eyes found her before he saw anything else.”

Yes, he saw Pepita, and Pepita sat and watched him with as cool an interest as if the peril with which he played meant nothing. Her lovely eyes glowed under their drooping lashes, but it was only with a momentary excitement caused by the fierce sport; the man was nothing.

So it seemed at least to Sebastiano. It was a bad bull he encountered, savage and treacherous, and maddened by his rage. Once there was a moment when a shadow of a misstep would have cost him his life. There was no time to look at Pepita then, but when the danger was pa.s.sed and he glanced toward her, she was softly waving her fan and smiling up at Manuel as if she had not even seen.

”She has a bad heart,” he said to himself, with fierce impatience. ”It is not nature that a young girl should mock at everything, and be so cruel, and have neither feeling nor even a little fear. She has a bad heart, or none at all.”

He would not look at her again; he swore it to himself. And for a short time he kept his vow; but there came a moment when something, some irresistible feeling, conquered him. It was as if he must look--as if some magic forced him, drew his eyes toward her in spite of himself.

And when he had looked, a sharp shock thrilled him, for she herself was looking at him; her eyes were fixed upon him with a strange steadiness, as if perhaps they had been resting upon him for some minutes and she had forgotten herself. It was a little thing perhaps, but it was enough for his hot blood and swift-veering impulsive nature. He had just given the final stroke; he was panting, glowing. The people were shouting, rising in their seats, and repeating his name with caressing, applauding epithets attached to it. Chance had brought him near the seat in which she sat, with Jovita and Jose and the others near her. They were applauding with the rest, all but Pepita, who only sat and smiled. And in the midst of it Sebastiano made a swift movement, so swift that it was scarcely to be understood--a mere touch of the hand to the shoulder--and something bright, like a many-hued bird, flew over the barrier and fell upon Pepita's lap. It was the knot of gay, rich ribbon which a moment before the matador had worn.

”It is the _devisa!_” exclaimed Isabella, in an awestruck tone.

”It is his _devisa_,” cried Jose--”his _devisa_, Pepita. He has thrown it to you yourself--Sebastiano.”

The next moment he was struck dumb with amazement. Pepita sat upright and broke into a little laugh. She lightly waved her fan.

”Why did he not throw it to Jovita?” she said, and with a cruel, careless little movement she swept the _devisa_ from her knee; it fell, and she set her foot upon it.

”She has trodden upon it,” said old Jovita. ”She has done it for pride, and to show herself above others. She is ready for the devil. Some one should beat her.”

”It was the _devisa_,” gasped Jose. ”Sebastiano.”

Pepita left her seat. It seemed as if something strange must have happened to her. The crimson had leaped to her cheeks, and her eyes were ablaze.

”What is it to me, his _devisa?_” she said. ”I do not want it. I will not have it. Let him throw a thousand, and I will tread upon them all, one after the other. Let it lie in the dirt. Let him give it to those others, those women who want it--and him.” She would go home at once; not to the pleasure-gardens, not anywhere but back to the cottage; and Jose followed her meekly, struck dumb. He had seen her wilful, capricious, childishly pa.s.sionate, a little hard to understand, many times before, but never like this. What had occurred to her? What had Sebastiano done?

Jovita had picked up the knot of gay ribbon and brushed the dust off it, and carried it home with her, grumbling fiercely. She was never averse to grumbling a little, and here, the saints knew, was cause.

”For pride,” she kept repeating; ”for pride, and to show that others are beneath her! Mother of G.o.d! the king himself is not good enough for her!

Let him come and pray upon his knees that she will go to the palace and wear a crown, and he will see what she will say! It is these fools of men who spoil her, as if there had never been a pretty face before. Let them treat her as she treats them, and she will be humble enough. She was always one of the devil's children with her pride!”

But Pepita, who heard it all, said nothing, though once or twice she gave her little mocking laugh.