"You have been most kind to me, senor."
"Kind, senora?" Quentin thought she was quizzing him.
"Yes; I cannot forget how, even as old Ximena, you lifted me from my mule, conveyed me in here, made a couch and pillow for me, and so forth. Beso usted la mano, caballero (I kiss your hand, sir)," she added, taking his hand in hers.
"Oh, Donna Isidora, I cannot permit you to do this—unless——"
"Do you not know the customs of Castile? Well, unless what?"
"You permit me to kiss yours."
"How simple! there, senor," she added, presenting a very lovely little hand, which he pressed to his lips.
"Your cheek now—ah, you will permit me?" urged Quentin, becoming a little bewildered by the whole situation, and by the clear dark eyes that looked so softly into his.
"Do so, senor."
Quentin was promptly pressing forward, when the point of a very unpleasant looking little stiletto met his cheek!