The Pretty Sister Of Jose Part 2

"The little one is there," was what he said, "behind you. He asked if any of us had seen her before; if we knew her name."

Pepita did not hear him, and did not know that from that hour they would all know her, or that at least there would be few of them who did not.

For Sebastiano to show an interest in a woman, to even go so far as to ask her name, was such a new thing that it must be spoken of and attract attention to her. And that she was not a fine lady, but only a pretty unknown girl with a rose in her hair, made the matter all the more exciting. When she fell asleep, tired and happy, that night, already she was on the road to fame. Sebastiano, who was the adored of his order, who in spite of his adventures sought no woman, had asked her name, had made efforts to discover it, and had learned that among those who had had the good fortune to see and speak to her she was known as "the pretty sister of Jose." A week from this time Jose came home one evening bringing Manuel with him. Manuel was often with him--in fact he had many friends; almost every day some gay or grave young fellow managed to attach himself to him, and somehow the acquaintance always shared itself soon afterward with Pepita. But Manuel appeared oftener than the rest, having a timid obstinacy, and seeming only puzzled and not discouraged by the indifference which sometimes ignored his very existence. On this particular evening he was moved from his usual calm, and so was Jose.

They had seen Sebastiano; they had spoken to him; in the presence of a circle of his friends and admirers he had drunk wine with them. "We were pa.s.sing the wine-shop and we saw him," explained Manuel, "and we went in to look on a little and hear him talk. One of the chulos who stood near spoke to him quickly when he saw us--as if he knew us--and presently the same chulo came and spoke to Jose, and soon Sebastiano came and spoke too. The one who approached us first was one of the three who drank at the table near us on the evening after the bull-fight. Once, in his boyhood, Sebastiano lived near the village you left; he knew Padre Alejandro and some others; he was pleased to see Jose and speak of them--it was as if they were friends at once."

"He has a good heart," put in Jose; "they all say that of him. He remembered everything--even old Juan, who lived to be a hundred and was bent double. He asked if he lived yet. It seems strange that he was once so near us, and was a little lad, ill-used and poor. He is not too proud to remember it. He would be a good friend to one in trouble--Sebastiano--though he is rich and spoken of by the whole world."

So great a celebrity Jose was convinced must be known to the entire universe. That night, as Pepita made ready for her bed, old Jovita, who had already retired, lay and looked at her.

The girl stood in the flood of brilliant white moonlight which bathed part of the bare room; her round dimpled arms were lifted as she unwound the soft dusky coils of her hair, to which there yet clung a few stars of jasmine. There was the shadow of a smile on her lips, and she was humming a tune.

"What does he want with Jose--this Sebastiano?" said Jovita, grumblingly.

"Who knows?" said Pepita.

"He wants something," Jovita went on. "They don't make friends with those beneath them for nothing, these fine ones. They all talk of you, these foolish fellows, and he has heard, and makes friends so that he can see you."

"What do they say of me?" asked

Pepita, without deigning to look up.

"Men are all fools," grumbled Jovita; "and they think girls are fools too. They say you have a pretty face; and he thinks he can make a fool of you if you are not one."

"Does he?" said Pepita, with a dimpling cruel little smile. "Let him come to-morrow--to-night. Let him begin."

"He will begin soon enough," Jovita answered. "You will see. Be sure he does not play the old game with you as he did with Sarita."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Shook the small stray blossoms out of her hair 069]

Pepita shook the small stray blossoms out of her hair and began to retwist the coil, breaking into singing in a clear voice:

"White, white is the jasmine flower; Let its stars light thee Here to my cas.e.m.e.nt, Where I await thee.

White, white is the jasmine flower, Sweet, sweet is the heart of the rose, Sweet my mouth's blossom--"

She stopped short and dropped her arms.

"See," she said, "let him want what he will, let him come a thousand times, and I will never speak to him."

In the gardens the next Sunday they met him. Pepita was talking to a young girl whose name was Isabella, and whose brother. Juan was following in the footsteps of Manuel and the rest. It was Isabella who first saw the matador, and uttered an exclamation.

"Your brother is coming," she cried, "with--yes, with Sebastiano."

Jose's simple face was on fire with delight, but Sebastiano looked less gay, and his step was less carelessly buoyant than it had been in the bull-ring. As he approached the group he looked only at Pepita. But Pepita looked only at Jose, her eyes laughing.

"Jovita is cross," she said; "she has been asking for you. She wishes to go home."

Sebastiano's eyes were fastened upon her face, upon her red lips, as she spoke. He had heard that she was like this; that she gave her glances to no man; that she was prettier than the rose in bloom, and as cruel as a young hawk, and his heart beat as he found himself near to her. Since the hour he had seen her he had thought only of how he might see her again, of how he might find her. He had made one bold plan after another, and had been forced to abandon each of them, and then mere chance had thrown Jose in his path. And now the instant he approached her she was about to elude him.

He spoke a few hurried words to Jose. It was too early to go away; the pleasure of the day was scarcely at its height; he wished to entertain them; they must not go.

"I will go and speak to Jovita," said Jose, and he went, leaving the four together.

The two simpler ones were somewhat abashed by the splendor of the dashing figure; they gazed at it with mingled curiosity and joy. To be so near it was enough, without effort at conversation. Sebastiano moved to Pepita's side. A Spanish lover loses little time.

"I saw you," he said, "at the bull-fight."

Pepita looked over his shoulder and smiled at a pa.s.sing woman who had greeted her. Her face dimpled, and she showed her small white teeth. It was as if she did not see the matador at all.

"It was at the bull-fight," he persisted. "Two weeks ago. You had a red flower in your hair, as you have to-day. Ever since--"

"It was not true," Pepita said gayly, to Isabella, "what I said of Jovita. She is always cross, but she does not wish to go home. She met an old woman she knew in her young days, and is enjoying herself very much."

"Why did you say it?" asked Isabella, with simple wonder.

"Because I wished to go home myself."

"Truly!" said Isabella. "Why is that?"

"I am not entertained so much to-day," answered Pepita.

[Ill.u.s.tration: We will make it more amusing 075]

"We will make it more amusing," said Sebastiano, eagerly. "It shall be more amusing--"

"There is Jovita with her old woman now," interrupted Pepita. "I will go and speak to them."

She was gone the next instant--her movement was like the flight of a bird. Sebastiano stood and stared after her in silence until Juan addressed him respectfully.

"She is very wonderful," he said. "She changes her mind before one knows. Just before you came she said she was amused, and wished to remain."

"Perhaps," began Sebastiano, much discomforted--"perhaps it was I--"

"Ah, senor," said Juan, with great politeness, "never. It is said that she always does what she chooses, and she chooses to do a thousand things."

"That is because she 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 cla.s.s. 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?"