With the Spaniard’s mortal dread of looking ridiculous, Rafael began to assure himself that those brutes were right—­that such was the road to a woman’s heart.  He had been too respectful, too humble, gazing at Leonora, timidly, submissively, from afar, as an idolater might look at an ikon.  Bosh!  Wasn’t he a man, and isn’t the man the stronger?  Some show of a male authority, that was what she needed!  He liked her!  Well, that was the end of it!  His she must be!  Besides, since she treated him so kindly, she surely loved him!  A few scruples perhaps!  But that would be nothing, before a show of real manhood!

Just as this valorous decision had emerged in the full splendor of its dignity from the mess of vacillation in his weak, irresolute character, Rafael heard voices down the road.  He jumped to his feet.  Leonora was approaching, followed by the two peasant women, who were bent low under their heavily laden baskets.

“Here, too!” the actress exclaimed with a laugh that rippled charmingly under the white skin of her throat.  “You are getting to be my shadow.  In the market place, on the road, everywhere!  I find you every time I look around!”

She accepted the bouquet of violets from the young man’s hand, inhaling their fragrance with evidence of keen enjoyment.

“Thanks, Rafael, they are the first I have seen this season.  My beautiful, faithful old friend!  Springtime!  You have brought her to me this year, though I felt her coming days before!  I am so happy—­can’t you see?  I feel as though I’d been a silkworm all winter, coiled up in a cocoon, and had now suddenly grown my wings!  And I’m going to fly out over this great green carpet, so sweet with its first perfumes!  Don’t you feel as I do, Rafael?...”

Rafael, gravely, said he did.  He, too, felt a seething in his blood, the nip of life in every one of his pores!  And his eyes ran over the bare neck in front of him, a neck of such tempting smoothness, its white beauty set off by the red kerchief; and over the violets resting on that strong, robust bosom.  The two orchard women exchanged a shrewd smile, a meaningful wink, at sight of Rafael, and went on ahead of their mistress, with the evident design of not disturbing the couple by their presence; but Leonora caught the look on their faces.

“Yes, go right on,” she said.  “We’ll take our time, but we’ll be there soon!”

And when they were out of hearing she resumed, pointing to the women with her closed parasol: 

“Did you see that?  Didn’t you notice their smiles and the winks they exchanged when they saw you on the road?...  Oh, Rafael!  You are blind as a bat!  And no good is going to come of it!  If I had any reputation to lose, I’d be mighty careful with a friend like you!  What do you suppose they are thinking?”

And she laughed with a pout of condescension, as though for her part, she did not care what people might be saying about her friendship with Rafael.