“For you as well as for me; that's the worst of it,” said I.
“We care nothing for that. It's of you we think,” said the Cherub. And because I knew it was true, more than ever it became my duty to think of him and his.
“Of course I don't want to lose any chance of seeing Monica,” I said; “but on the days of the processions I shall walk about in the crowd and keep out of Carmona's way.”
“As for us,” said Pilar, “we'll try for a box near the Duke's—though there may be nothing left, as the King's to be here and there's sure to be a crowd. I'll do my best to whisper to Lady Monica, or send her a note, or speak with my eyes if no more.”
“You know how I depend on you,” I answered. “She may give you a letter, an answer to one which I hope she got at Manzanares.”
“I'll be ready for the lightest hint,” said Pilar. “If she has a note for you, she'll show it behind her fan. Then I'll motion her to crumple it up and throw it on the floor as she goes out. If you don't appear in our society, the Duke will think perhaps that after all he's safe.”
“No. We mustn't count on any such thing,” broke in her father. “If he can't get rid of you in one way, he'll try another; and there's an old saying which is still true: anything can happen in Spain, especially in the south. Carmona will be watching for you. You must be prepared for that.”
“I shall be,” I said.
“We'll all be,” Pilar finished. “Oh, there's the old Roman aqueduct! Isn't it splendid; and strong as if it had been built [pg 211]yesterday instead of in the days before the Goths. I love Seville—love every brick and stone of it, from the ruins of the Moorish wall and the Torre del Oro, and the glorious cathedral, to the old house in the Callo del Candilejo, where the witch-woman looked out and saw King Don Pedro fighting his duel. I don't believe any other place could make up to me for Seville.”
By the side of the two-thousand-years-old-aqueduct ran a modern electric tramway; and one of the graceful arches made by Roman hands had been widened to let pass the railway line for Madrid. Farther on, Moorish houses with lofty miradors and beautiful capped windows were tucked between ugly new buildings, and across the shaded avenue of a green park was flung an extraordinary, four-winged spiral staircase of iron. I groaned at the monstrosity, saying that Pedro himself had never perpetrated an act more cruel; and the Cherub excused it sadly, by saying that it was convenient for the crowds to pass from one side of the street to the other, as I should see if I stayed beyond the Semana Santa for the feria.