"It do not matter at all,"he said,bowing,and speaking with equal plainness.And then,taking a knife from his pocket,he cut the pendule off,leaving a bit of torn cloth on the side of his jacket.
"Upon my word,I am quite unhappy,"said I;"but I always am so awkward."Whereupon he bowed low.
"Couldn't I make it right?"said I,bringing out my purse.
He lifted his hand,and I saw that it was small and white;he lifted it and gently put it upon my purse,smiling sweetly as he did so.
"Thank you,no,senor;thank you,no."And then,bowing to us both,he walked away down into the cabin.
"Upon my word he is a deuced well-mannered fellow,"said I.
"You shouldn't have offered him money,"said Johnson;"a Spaniard does not like it.""Why,I thought you could do nothing without money in this country.
Doesn't every one take bribes?"
"Ah!yes;that is a different thing;but not the price of a button.
By Jove!he understood English,too.Did you see that?""Yes;and I called him an ass!I hope he doesn't mind it.""Oh!no;he won't think anything about it,"said Johnson."That sort of fellows don't.I dare say we shall see him in the bull-ring next Sunday,and then we'll make all right with a glass of lemonade."And so our adventure ended with the man of the gold ornaments.I was sorry that I had spoken English before him so heedlessly,and resolved that I would never be guilty of such gaucherie again.But,then,who would think that a Spanish bull-fighter would talk a foreign language?I was sorry,also,that I had torn his coat;it had looked so awkward;and sorry again that I had offered the man money.Altogether I was a little ashamed of myself;but I had too much to look forward to at Seville to allow any heaviness to remain long at my heart;and before I had arrived at the marvellous city Ihad forgotten both him and his buttons.
Nothing could be nicer than the way in which I was welcomed at Mr.
Daguilar's house,or more kind--I may almost say affectionate--than Maria's manner to me.But it was too affectionate;and I am not sure that I should not have liked my reception better had she been more diffident in her tone,and less inclined to greet me with open warmth.As it was,she again gave me her cheek to kiss,in her father's presence,and called me dear John,and asked me specially after some rabbits which I had kept at home merely for a younger sister;and then it seemed as though she were in no way embarrassed by the peculiar circumstances of our position.Twelve months since Ihad asked her to be my wife,and now she was to give me an answer;and yet she was as assured in her gait,and as serenely joyous in her tone,as though I were a brother just returned from college.It could not be that she meant to refuse me,or she would not smile on me and be so loving;but I could almost have found it in my heart to wish that she would."It is quite possible,"said I to myself,"that I may not be found so ready for this family bargain.A love that is to be had like a bale of goods is not exactly the love to suit my taste."But then,when I met her again in the morning I could no more have quarrelled with her than I could have flown.
I was inexpressibly charmed with the whole city,and especially with the house in which Mr.Daguilar lived.It opened from the corner of a narrow,unfrequented street--a corner like an elbow--and,as seen from the exterior,there was nothing prepossessing to recommend it;but the outer door led by a short hall or passage to an inner door or grille,made of open ornamental iron-work,and through that we entered a court,or patio,as they I called it.Nothing could be more lovely or deliciously cool than was this small court.The building on each side was covered by trellis-work;and beautiful creepers,vines,and parasite flowers,now in the full magnificence of the early summer,grew up and clustered round the windows.Every inch of wall was covered,so that none of the glaring whitewash wounded the eye.In the four corners of the patio were four large orange-trees,covered with fruit.I would not say a word in special praise of these,remembering that childish promise she had made on my behalf.In the middle of the court there was a fountain,and round about on the marble floor there were chairs,and here and there a small table,as though the space were really a portion of the house.
It was here that we used to take our cup of coffee and smoke our cigarettes,I and old Mr.Daguilar,while Maria sat by,not only approving,but occasionally rolling for me the thin paper round the fragrant weed with her taper fingers.Beyond the patio was an open passage or gallery,filled also with flowers in pots;and then,beyond this,one entered the drawing-room of the house.It was by no means a princely palace or mansion,fit for the owner of untold wealth.The rooms were not over large nor very numerous;but the most had been made of a small space,and everything had been done to relieve the heat of an almost tropical sun.
"It is pretty,is it not?"she said,as she took me through it.
"Very pretty,"I said."I wish we could live in such houses.""Oh,they would not do at all for dear old fat,cold,cozy England.
