Bending instinctively at this demonstration of gentle courtesy on her part, he pressed her hand most respectfully to his lips, and, as if feeling that he had gone almost too far, with a gallant wave of the hand he suddenly disappeared from whence he had so lately come, over the seaward side of the parapet towards the army barracks.

Isabella gazed after him with a puzzled look for a while, then said half to herself and in a pettish and vexed tone of voice: 

“I did not mean that he should kiss my hand.  I’m sure I did not; and why did I give it to him?  How thoughtless.  I declare I have never met so monstrously impudent a person in the entire course of my life.  Very strange.  Here’s General Harero, Don Romonez, and Felix Gavardo, have been paying me court this half year and more, and either of them would give half his fortune for a kiss of this hand, and yet neither has dared to even tell me that they love me, though I know it so well.  But here is this young soldier, this new captain of infantry, why he sees me but half a minute before he declares himself, and so boldly, too!  I protest it was a real insult.  I’ll tell Don Gonzales, and I’ll have the fellow dishonored and his commission taken from him, I will.  I’m half ready to cry with vexation.  Yes, I’ll have Captain Bezan cashiered, and that directly, I will.”

“No you wont, sister,” said Ruez, looking up calmly into her face as he spoke.

“Yes I will, brother.”

“Still I say no,” continued the boy, gently, and caressing her hand the while.

“And why not, Ruez?” asked Isabella, stooping and kissing his handsome forehead, as the boy looked up so lovingly in her face.

“Because he saved my life, sister,” replied Ruez, smiling.

“True, he did save your life, Ruez,” murmured the beautiful girl, thoughtfully; an act that we can never repay; but it was most presuming for him to enter the Plato thus, and to—­to—­”

“Kiss your hand, sister,” suggested the boy, smiling in a knowing way.

“Yes, it was quite shocking for him to be so familiar, Ruez.”

“But, sister, I can hardly ever help kissing you when you look kind to me, and I am sure you looked very kind at Captain Bezan.”

“Did I!” half mused Isabella, biting the handle of her Creole fan.

“Yes; and how handsome this Captain Bezan is, sister,” continued the boy, pretending to be engaged with the hound, whom he patted while he looked sideways at Isabella.

“Do you think him so handsome?” still half mused Isabella, in reply to her brother’s remarks, while her eye rested upon the ground.

“I know it,” said the boy, with spirit.  “Don Miguel, General Harero, or the lieutenant-general, are none of them half so good looking,” he continued, referring to some of her suitors.

“Well, he is handsome, brother, that’s true enough, and brave I know, or he would never have leaped into the water to save your life.  But I’ll never forgive him, I’m sure of that, Ruez,” she said, in a most decided tone of voice.