“Did she appear to notice you?” inquired Geronimo, leaving the question unanswered.
“Paralysed by her exceeding beauty,” replied the student, “I stood dumb and motionless in the carriage-way, and was nearly run over. I sprang aside, but just in time. She observed me and smiled: I almost think she blushed. One thing I am sure of—she could not help seeing that her wondrous beauty had turned my head.”
“And that is all?” said Regato, slyly.
“What more could there be?” cried the young lawyer, indignantly. “Would you have such an angel throw flowers at me, or appoint a rendezvous? When the carriage turned out of the street towards the Prado, she looked back. Holy Mother of Sorrows! even at that distance, the sunshine of those eyes scorched my very heart!—But this is folly, sheer folly! Next week I go to Ciudad Real, and amongst dusty deeds and dry folios I shall soon forget the eyes and their owner.”
Señor Regato assumed a thoughtful countenance, look a large pinch of snuff, and lit a fresh cigar. After three or four puffs, emitted through his nostrils with the delectation of a veteran smoker, he broke silence.
“You will not go to Ciudad Real.”
“And why not?” cried Federico.
“Because, if I am not greatly mistaken, you will remain here.”
“Strange if I do!” laughed the student.
“Less so, perhaps, than you imagine. Would you go if the rose-coloured lady bid you stay? What if she sent a tender billet to the young woman-hater, and said, ‘Come and love me, if you have the heart and courage of a man.’ I think I see you then, though ten thousand devils barred the way. Ciudad Real and the royal courts would soon be forgotten.”