She leaned against the side of the well and looked down into the water, where she could see her face reflected in the cool, dark depths. The next moment Sebastiano’s was reflected also. He held the flowers in his hand.
“These!” he said. “It was one of the gardeners of the king who gave them to me. They are such as the queen sometimes wears. I brought them that you might wear them at the bull-fight.”
She saw their beauty reflected in the water. She would not look at them directly. They were very beautiful. She had never seen such flowers. And the queen herself had worn others like them. If any one else had brought them—but it was Sebastiano. And she remembered Sarita. Perhaps he had at some time given some to Sarita, knowing that to a country girl who knew nothing they would seem very grand. Sarita would have been sure to take them.
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 passionately. “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 God!” said Jovita, staring, “she is mad with her Senor Sebastiano.”