Frances Hodgson Burnett

“ And as he looked a voice broke through the fragrant barrier singing a careless, broken bit of song—
“White, white is the jasmine flower; Let its stars light thee.”
“It is Pepita,” said José. “She always sings when she is pleased. It is always a good sign.”
If her singing was a sign of pleasure, then she must have been enjoying her life greatly in the days that came afterward, for she was singing continually. As she went about her work there was always the shadow of a smile on her lips and in her eyes, as if her thoughts amused her. And she was in such gay spirits that José was enchanted. ”

“ You are a woman, and you are made to be loved; but there is something hard in your heart. You are proud of having mocked a man who was honest and loved you. But hear me: it is better, after all, to be less pretty and more a woman.”
He stopped an instant. She had changed her position, and stood by the jasmine, stripping the blossoms from it one by one. She began to smile and sing softly, as if to herself:
“Oh, bird at my window, Sing but one song to me, My lover who is light and gay.”
“And more a woman,” said Sebastiano. “It is women men want.” ”

“ She was too pretty and too good never to be married—never to have a home of her own and some fine fellow to love the dust she walked on. He himself was only José, and a brother was, after all, a poor substitute for a lover who could talk and sing and make jokes, and wear such a dashing air that she would be proud of him.
“That is it,” he said, sagely, to himself. “A woman must have some one to be proud of, and she could never be proud of me. If I were Sebastiano now, it would be different.” ”

“ Pepita had the joy of a young bird in its first flight. The air of gayety enlivening everything, the people in their holiday clothes, the blue sky, the sunshine, the cheap simple pleasures of the day, were intoxicating delights to her. She made friends with the girls and their parents, and was even gracious to the young men who hung about José, and somehow seemed to find his neighborhood more attractive than any other. It was from one of these young men (his name was Manuel) she first heard of Sebastiano—the gay, the wonderful, the renowned Sebastiano. ”

“ Such a fine fellow, this José—such a good fellow—such a workman as was seldom seen in Madrid. And what a fine day for pleasure. And the Paseo de la Virgen del Puerto—there never were such gardens for sport. And all the time each one looked at Pepita, and lucky indeed was the man with mother and sisters to help him to make friends. And never had old Jovita met with such civilities, and encountered such deference. ”

“ If one waits long enough, pain ceases and one forgets. It is so with a wound, why not with what one feels for a woman? I said you could be made to love; but let that be left for another man to do. I want no love like that. I want a woman. Some day you will not cast the devisa under your feet. You will take it and hide it in your breast. It will not be mine, but some other man’s who loves you less. I loved you, I was mad for you; but it shall cease. It is better to think only of the bulls than to play the fool for a woman who has no love in her heart. ”

“ Pepita looked up and laughed; then she sang again:
“Who stirs the blossoms in the night, Who breaks the orange flower.”
Sebastiano made a swift movement and caught her wrists, his eyes flashing fire.
“That is nothing,” he said. “You are woman enough. The time will come. It will not be always like this. You can be made to love. Yes, you are one of those who must be made. Then you will suffer too, and it will be good for you. ”

“ There is no one else who can slay a bull as he can. It is enough to make one weep for joy. And yet she can treat him ill.”
But he did not know how ill; only Sebas-tiano knew that. Since the day he had stood in the arena and had seen all in a moment, as if a star had suddenly started into the sky, the small black head and rose of a face, he had lived in a fevered dream—a dream in which he pursued always something which seemed within his grasp and yet forever eluded him. ”

“ In all his plannings it was Pepita José had thought of first. Madrid to him was only a sort of setting for Pepita; the clean, comfortable cottage a home for Pepita; the roses and lemon blossoms she would wear in her hair; under the fine grape-vines she would sit in the evening and play on her guitar. His wages would give her comfort and buy her pretty simple dresses. ”

“ The rose was not as red as her scornful little mouth.
“He was always kind to her when he saw her,” continued Manuel. “Once he gave her his devisa. When she died she held it in her hand and would not let it go. It was buried with her. She was a pretty child—Sarita—but she had always lived in the country and knew nothing.”
“I have always lived in the country and I know nothing,” said Pepita, mocking him with her great eyes; “but I can help anything I choose. It should be the others who cannot help it.” ”

“ 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 José. “Sebastiano.” ”

“ Through the help of Padre Alejandro and an old friend of his, José had work bringing him pay which appeared absolute wealth to him. The cottage, with its good walls and roof, its neat rooms and garden, being compared with the mere hut they had left behind, seemed a palace. For the first few days, indeed, Jovita was scarce at ease; to feel no necessity for heavy labor, to have food enough, to be so comfortable, seemed unnatural, as if it might finally bring disaster. ”

“ But when the day of the bull-fight arrived it was not possible to conceal it.
Ah! the wonders, the splendors of that day from the first hour! At its very dawning Pepita was up and singing. Jovita must take her rest, that she might be in her best humor to enjoy the festivities, and not spoil them by grumbling. Pepita needed no rest; her little feet danced as she moved; as she made her preparations for the morning meal she chatted incessantly to José, asking a thousand questions. Everything conspired to add to her joys. ”

“ And then he described Sebastiano. Never before, it appeared from his enthusiasm, had Madrid known such a matador as Sebastiano. Never one so handsome, so dashing, so universally adored. When he appeared in the ring, what a roar of applause went up. When he made his proud bow to the president, and said, “I go to slay this bull for the honor of the people of Madrid and the most excellent president of this tourney,” and threw his hat away and moved forward, waving his scarlet cloak, what excitement there was awakened. ”

“ Manuel had been reduced to hopeless slavery. Isabella had looked on in secret reverential wonder. Jovita’s old woman had glanced aside again and again, nodding her head, and saying, sagely: “Yes, she will always have it her own way—the little one. You are lucky in having such a grandchild. She will never be a load.” But throughout it all Pepita had managed it that not one of her words had fallen directly to Sebastiano. ”

“ She loved José passionately; she loved Jo-vita; she loved little children and animals, and they loved her in return; old men and women adored her because of her simple, almost childish kindness and her readiness to help those who needed her young strength and bright spirit. It was only men who made love who were shown no mercy. She did not know that they needed mercy. She did not understand—that was all. It was as José had known it would be. When on the first holiday be took her to the public gardens with Jovita, every one who passed them gave her a second look; many turned to watch her ”

“ To José it never occurred to complain of her, but Jovita’s sense of worldly advantage was outraged at this time, and she did not hesitate to express herself with much freedom and grumbling.
“God knows, I want no haste,” she said; “but this is a chance for any girl. And see what a fool she is. But that is as it always happens. There will come along some worthless fellow, and she will be fooled like the rest, and be ready enough to run after him.” ”

“ That night, for the first time, she heard of Sebastiano.
Little Carlos came in and was full of news.
“They say that Sebastiano has had great success, and that perhaps he will go to America.”
“Where is America?” asked Jovita.
“It is at the other end of the world, and never yet have the people seen a bull-fight.”
“Never?” said José, staring. “That is impossible!”
“It is true,” answered Carlos. “And they are rich, and like new things; and the king has spoken of sending for Sebastiano. He will be rich enough to build a palace for his old age.” ”

“ Had not Pepita and himself clung together hidden in the loft at night, listening to their mother’s sobs, and often to the sound of blows and curses rained down upon her because she was no longer a beauty, and there were beauties who had smiles to bestow on handsome fellows who were free, and even upon those who were not? ”

“ It was as if she had not lived—as if she had been Isabella or Carmenita—and he did not give her a thought. No, he had not once looked up.
The next day he was gone. She heard José say so to Jovita, who grumbled loudly. She had forgotten her old distaste for these “fine ones.”
“And but for her humors he would have stayed,” she said. “What more does she want than a fine well-built man like that—a man who is well-to-do, and whom every other girl would dance for joy to get? But no; nothing but a prince for her. ”

“ How there would be sport—how there would be pleasure! Life began to wear a more vivacious aspect. And what had he not done since he had left Madrid? Such success—such adulation! The impression among his adorers was that the whole world had been at his feet. Here and there one could hear snatches of song of which his name was the refrain. It was only because he so loved his own people that he had refused the magnificent offers made by the King of America. He had refused them; he had chosen to remain in Spain. He had come to Madrid. ”

“ At night, when they sat together, Pepita spoke of the next bull-fight. José must take her. She wished to go.
“It is better that we should not go there,” said José. “You know why. He will not like to see you. You saw how it was to-day. He is not angry, only he is determined not to be reminded. Soon he will go away, and then you shall go with me as often as you wish; but not now. After this week he will be far away—far away.”
“I will go now,” said Pepita. “I will go without you if you will not take me. Isabella and Juan and Manuel will be glad enough. Let him—let him look at his bulls.” ”

“ Girls who think themselves too good to be spoken to are always easiest to coax when they find their match. Let him come, and you’ll drop like a ripe grape.”
“He will never come,” said Pepita. “Never!” And there was not a shade of doubt in her look—nothing but cold indignation at Jovita’s ill-humor. “I am not afraid of men. They are all stupid. They think they can have anything they want, and they can have nothing. They have to ask, and it is the girls who can say ‘No;’ and then they are miserable, and beg and beg until one detests them. ”

“ If one cared for men, if one did not find them tiresome, if one was simple enough—like Sarita—to be carried away by things, there was at least something in all this to interest one a little.
“It is Sebastiano,” said José.
But Sebastiano was addressing the president of the games. He extended his glittering sword, and made his announcement in a clear, rich voice. Pepita listened as he spoke. And then the most thrilling excitement of the sport began. It was no child’s play Sebastiano had before him. ”

“ 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. ”