"Militona," said the duenna in a low voice, "Juancho sees us. Be cautious! that young man ogles you, and Juancho is jealous." "What is that to me?" replied Militona in the same tone. "You know he does not jest with those who displease him." "I have not looked at the gentleman, and besides, am I not my own mistress?" In saying she had not looked at Andres, Militona was guilty of a slight equivocation. She had not _looked_ at him, perhaps, for women can see without looking, but she could have given a most minute description of his person. And out of respect to truth, we must here mention that she took Don Andres de Salcedo for what he really was, a very smart and good-looking cavalier. Andres, as a pretext for commencing a conversation, called one of those dealers in oranges, preserved fruits, lozenges, and other sweetmeats, who circulate in the corridor of the bull-ring, and offer their wares to the spectators at the end of long sticks. "Senorita, will you accept some comfits?" said Andres, with an engaging smile to his beautiful neighbour, offering her the open box. The young girl turned quickly round, and looked at him with an air of uneasy surprise. "They are lemon and mint," said he, as if to decide her. Militona, suddenly making up her mind, plunged her little fingers into the box, and took a pinch of the lozenges. "Luckily Juancho has his back turned," muttered a _majo_ who stood just by, "or there would be blood on his knife to-night." "Will this lady take some?" continued Andres in a tone of exquisite politeness, holding out the box to the horrible old woman, who was so disconcerted by this piece of audacity that in her confusion she took every one of the sugar-plums. Nevertheless, whilst emptying the box into the palm of her hand, black as that of a mummy, she cast a furtive and frightened glance at the circus, and heaved an enormous sigh.