For once Roderic was unconscious of the fact that he seemed to be an object of deep interest to some member of the fair sex seated on a balcony not far away.
She had her face partially concealed by the filmy lace so thoroughly a part of a Spanish woman's toilet, and this she manipulated in such a way that even a dear friend passing by might never have suspected her identity.
Something about Roderic appeared to have attracted her attention—perhaps it was the fact of his haunting that immediate vicinity, perhaps his manly showing that appealed to her heart, it might even be possible that she believed she knew him.
Many opportunities were given for a careful examination of his walk and carriage, and the more this unknown senorita looked the deeper grew her interest until at last she exclaimed softly, yet with no little rapture:
"Madre de Dios! it is no other than he—there cannot be two men so fashioned by Heaven, so perfect in figure, so brave in movement, so altogether charming; but what does he seek—what the object of his tramp back and forward?"
Evidently milady of the balcony entertained the warmest affection for the party whose identity she thought she had discovered under Roderic's disguise.
Her curiosity being aroused she began to cast about for some object that would explain this sentinel tramp of the man on the plaza.
It was not long before she decided that his interest was wholly taken up with the little shop of the plaza tobacconist.
Now doubtless the quaint establishment of Senor Pedro was a gem in its way, and worthy of considerable notice—she chanced to know it well and that many lovers were wont to designate it as a point near which they appointed a rendezvous—indeed, certain tender memories even made her gentle bosom heave, and a sigh escaped her lips as she looked again at the shop.
But there must be some other reason why this man of the striking figure, and walk so energetic, so different from the usual run of Spaniard or native Porto Rican should haunt the vicinity.