“We spent the whole day together, eating, drinking, and so forth. When she had stuffed herself with sugar-plums, like any child of six years old, she thrust them by handfuls into the old woman’s water-jar. ‘That’ll make sherbet for her,’ she said. She smashed the _yemas_ by throwing them against the walls. ‘They’ll keep the flies from bothering us.’ There was no prank or wild frolic she didn’t indulge in. I told her I should have liked to see her dance, only there were no castanets to be had. Instantly she seized the old woman’s only earthenware plate, smashed it up, and there she was dancing the _Romalis_, and making the bits of broken crockery rattle as well as if they had been ebony and ivory castanets. That girl was good company, I can tell you! Evening fell, and I heard the drums beating tattoo. “‘I must get back to quarters for roll-call,’ I said. “‘To quarters!’ she answered, with a look of scorn. ‘Are you a negro slave, to let yourself be driven with a ramrod like that! You are as silly as a canary bird. Your dress suits your nature.* Pshaw! you’ve no more heart than a chicken.’ * Spanish dragoons wear a yellow uniform. “I stayed on, making up my mind to the inevitable guard-room. The next morning the first suggestion of parting came from her. “‘Hark ye, Joseito,’ she said. ‘Have I paid you? By our law, I owed you nothing, because you’re a _payllo_. But you’re a good-looking fellow, and I took a fancy to you. Now we’re quits. Good-day!’ “I asked her when I should see her again. “‘When you’re less of a simpleton,’ she retorted, with a laugh. Then, in a more serious tone, ‘Do you know, my son, I really believe I love you a little; but that can’t last! The dog and the wolf can’t agree for long. Perhaps if you turned gipsy, I might care to be your _romi_. But that’s all nonsense, such things aren’t possible. Pshaw! my boy. Believe me, you’re well out of it. You’ve come across the devil--he isn’t always black--and you’ve not had your neck wrung. I wear a woollen suit, but I’m no sheep.* Go and burn a candle to your _majari_,** she deserves it well. Come, good-by once more. Don’t think any more about _La Carmencita_, or she’ll end by making you marry a widow with wooden legs.’*** * _Me dicas vriarda de jorpoy, bus ne sino braco_.--A gipsy proverb. ** The Saint, the Holy Virgin. *** The gallows, which is the widow of the last man hanged upon it. “As she spoke, she drew back the bar that closed the door, and once we were out in the street she wrapped her mantilla about her, and turned on her heel.