I turned away in some discomfiture to join Enriquez, who was calmly awaiting me, with a cigarette in his mouth, outside the sala.  Yet he looked so unconscious of any previous absurdity that I hesitated in what I thought was a necessary warning.  He, however, quickly precipitated it.  Glancing after the retreating figures of the two women, he said:  “Thees mees from Boston is return to her house.  You do not accompany her?  I shall.  Behold me—­I am there.”  But I linked my arm firmly in his.  Then I pointed out, first, that she was already accompanied by a servant; secondly, that if I, who knew her, had hesitated to offer myself as an escort, it was hardly proper for him, a perfect stranger, to take that liberty; that Miss Mannersley was very punctilious of etiquette, which he, as a Castilian gentleman, ought to appreciate.

“But will she not regard lofe—­the admiration excessif?” he said, twirling his thin little mustache meditatively.

“No; she will not,” I returned sharply; “and you ought to understand that she is on a different level from your Manuelas and Carmens.”

“Pardon, my friend,” he said gravely; “thees women are ever the same.  There is a proverb in my language.  Listen:  ’Whether the sharp blade of the Toledo pierce the satin or the goatskin, it shall find behind it ever the same heart to wound.’  I am that Toledo blade—­possibly it is you, my friend.  Wherefore, let us together pursue this girl of Boston on the instant.”

But I kept my grasp on Enriquez’ arm, and succeeded in restraining his mercurial impulses for the moment.  He halted, and puffed vigorously at his cigarette; but the next instant he started forward again.  “Let us, however, follow with discretion in the rear; we shall pass her house; we shall gaze at it; it shall touch her heart.”

Ridiculous as was this following of the young girl we had only just parted from, I nevertheless knew that Enriquez was quite capable of attempting it alone, and I thought it better to humor him by consenting to walk with him in that direction; but I felt it necessary to say: 

“I ought to warn you that Miss Mannersley already looks upon your performances at the sala as something outre and peculiar, and if I were you I shouldn’t do anything to deepen that impression.”

“You are saying she ees shock?” said Enriquez, gravely.

I felt I could not conscientiously say that she was shocked, and he saw my hesitation.  “Then she have jealousy of the senoritas,” he observed, with insufferable complacency.  “You observe!  I have already said.  It is ever so.”

I could stand it no longer.  “Look here, Harry,” I said, “if you must know it, she looks upon you as an acrobat—­a paid performer.”

“Ah!”—­his black eyes sparkled—­“the torero, the man who fights the bull, he is also an acrobat.”

“Yes; but she thinks you a clown!—­a gracioso de teatro—­there!”