“She have the place that Chonita Iturbi y Moncada have before, and many caballeros want to marry with her, but she no pay much attention; only now I think like Enrique.  Ay, he sing so beautiful, Senor, no wonder si she loving him.  Serenade her every night, and she love the musica.”

“It certainly must be that,” thought John, “for he hasn’t an idea in his head.”

He did not see her until that night.  The priest wore the brown robe of his order to the ball, and John his claw-hammer.  They both looked out of place among those birds of brilliant plumage.

Dona Martina, large and coffee-colored, with a mustache and many jewels, sat against the wall with other senoras of her kind.  They wore heavy red and yellow satins, but the girls wore light silks that fluttered as they walked.

Dona Martina gave him a sleepy welcome, and he turned his attention to the dancing, in which he could take no part.  He knew that his manners were good and his carriage easy, but the lighter graces had not come his way.

At the moment a girl was dancing alone in the middle of the sala, and John knew instinctively that she was Delfina Carillo.  Like the other girls, she wore her hair high under a tall comb, but her gown was white and trimmed with the lace of Spain.  Her feet, of course, were tiny, and showed plainly beneath her slightly lifted skirts; and she danced with no perceptible effort, rather as if swayed by a light wind, like the pendent moss in the woods.  She had just begun to dance when John entered, and the company was standing against the wall in silence; but in a few moments the young men began to mutter, then to clap and stamp, then to shout, and finally they plunged their hands wildly into their pockets and flung gold and silver at her feet.  But she took no notice beyond a flutter of nostril, and continued to dance like a thing of light and air.

Her beauty was very great.  John, young as he was, knew that it was hardly likely he should ever see beauty in such perfection again.  It was not an intellectual face, but it was faultless of line and delicate of coloring.  The eyes were not only very large and black, but the lashes were so long and soft the wonder was they did not tangle.  Her skin was white, her cheeks and lips were pink, her mouth was curved and flexible; and her figure, her arms and hands and feet had the expression in their perfect lines that her face lacked.  John noticed that she had a short upper lip, a haughty nostril, and a carriage that expressed pride both latent and active.  It was with an effort that she bent her head graciously as she glided from the floor, taking no notice of the offerings that had been flung at her feet.

And John loved her once and for all.  She was the sublimation of every dream that his romantic heart had conceived.  He felt faint for a moment at the difficulties which bristled between himself and this superlative being, but he was a youthful conqueror, and life had been very amiable to him.  He shook courage into his spirit and asked to be presented to her at once.